An Addams Family Genesis
by TamarawTinay
Summary: This is my take on how Morticia and Gomez met and got married. Please review my work, I'd really appreciate that. And if you have any suggestions as to how you want the story to go, please let me know, maybe we can work that out. Enjoy! :D ***I do not own the original Addams Family characters (Charles Addams does).***
1. Chapter 1: The Future

She was seated in front of her bureau, leaning towards the mirror as she dabbed her plump, full lips with a maroon lipstick, when someone knocked her bedroom door. She puckered her lips before turning her attention to the reflection of her door in her mirror.

"Yes?" her icy, low voice rang out.

The door slowly opened, letting out a loud creak. The young woman, who somehow looked like the lady in front of the mirror, except for their hairs and the obvious contrast of their clothes, frowned at the creaking door.

"Your door is too noisy, Morticia," she said, still eyeing the door with distaste.

"Good morning to you, too, Ophelia," the young woman called Morticia replied. She turned to face the other lady, Ophelia. "Please, Ophelia, ignore my door and have a seat. I like my door that way." She gestured towards her bed before reaching out for the hair brush on her bureau.

Still appalled by her sister's door, Ophelia pursued the topic. "You know, Morticia, whenever you open this door, you can be heard all over the house." To prove her point, she pushed and pulled the door several times.

"I do not really care about being heard, Ophelia," Morticia replied nonchalantly. She watched her sister continue playing with her door. "And please stop pushing and pulling that, the creaking will not go. Besides, since you said that the creaking is heard all over the house, surely Mother will be bothered by that."

The warning about their mother reprimanding her stopped Ophelia from playing with the door. She shrugged and abandoned the creaking door.

"But how can you sneak out if your door wakes everybody up during the night?" she finally asked. She crossed the room to sit on Morticia's bed and watched her sister brush her ebony hair from roots to tips.

Morticia chuckled softly. "When I need to sneak out, I can always use the trapdoor," she said, pointing on the floor. "That leads straight outside of the house. There are also several secret panels in this room which can lead to almost anywhere inside and outside the house."

"Lucky duck!" Ophelia exclaimed with envy in her voice.

"Dear, you hardly have to sneak out," Morticia pointed out. "Between the two of us, you can get away with almost anything."

"Except leaving at the dead of the night," Ophelia answered. She crouched on the floor of the room, trying to look for the tell-tale signs of the trap door.

Morticia stopped brushing her hair and stared at her sister, an appalled look evident on her face. "You have intentions of leaving the house during the night?"

Ophelia turned to her sister, her cheeks flushing slightly. "Oh, do not look so surprised, Morticia. I do have social life, after all."

"Oooh," breathed Morticia. She resumed brushing her hair. "What kind of social life? The one that involves romance?"

"Oh, don't tease!" Ophelia hastily said, her voice several octaves higher than usual. She tries to stop herself from blushing. She straightened up and sat back on Morticia's bed. She turned her attention to the decorations inside her sister's room. "After all these years, I should have been used to your… eccentric taste, apparently, I still am not."

"Dodging the subject of romance, I see," Morticia commented knowingly. "Very well. But do not expect me to forget about that. I will learn about your so-called social life in one way or another. And to answer your comment, I, too, am still getting used to your penchant. Looking at the two of us, who would have really thought that we are twins?"

"True enough," Ophelia agreed, quite glad that Morticia dropped the subject of romance. She scanned the room with a look of mixed amazement and confusion crossing her face.

"So, what brought you here, Ophelia?" Morticia asked to stop her sister from attempting to ask her about her boarded up windows.

"Oh, Mother wanted to make sure that you are coming to breakfast," her sister replied.

"Now that is news," Morticia commented. She put down her hairbrush and started braiding her hair into two identical plaits.

"Morticia, don't be hard on Mother," Ophelia scolded. "She do cares for you, you know."

"Does she really?" Morticia questioned in a flat voice to hide her sarcasm. She picked up two hair ties and tied the braids. "What does she want?"

"Of course, she does!" Ophelia replied indignantly, her shrill voice ringing out.

"Ophelia, do not talk too loud. Cleopatra might wake. It is hard to stop her tantrums when her sleep gets interrupted," Morticia said nodding towards an African strangler, potted on her bed side table. The plant shifted but did not seem to wake.

"Sorry," Ophelia said apologetically. She lowered her voice and continued, "Just do not speak of Mother like that. You might not believe it, but she cares. Anyway, she is calling for a family meeting during breakfast."

"Alright, fine, I am coming," Morticia said reluctantly as she stood up to go. "I wonder what this is all about. Last time it was about a trip to Hawaii."

"Oh, it won't be that bad, and Hawaii wasn't too bad, too," Ophelia replied. She also stood up, patted the daisies on her blonde hair to check if they are still there, before hooking her arm on the crook of Morticia's. "She said it's about our future."

"Wonderful," Morticia commented, not bothering to hide the sarcasm in her voice, before slamming down her bedroom door.

From the bedside table, Cleopatra shifted and continued to sleep peacefully.

* * *

"What are you wearing?" an elegant-looking woman, who looked so much like the twins, asked Morticia as the twins enter the dining room. The smile on Morticia's face slowly disappeared as she watched the woman's frown deepen while she eyed her dark clothing.

Morticia was wearing a dark gray, long sleeved smock that stopped a little above her knees over a black, fishnet stockings, and a pair of black, leather heeled ankle boots.

The woman's frown transformed into a deep scowl as she eyed Morticia's equally dark makeup. Besides her maroon lipstick, Morticia looked even paler with the black, heavy lines around her almond-shaped, icy blue eyes. Her thick, long, and permed eyelashes looked even thicker with the black mascara applied on them, with matching gray to black gradient of eye shadow on her eyelids.

Morticia sighed before replying, "Day clothes?"

"Day clothes," the woman repeated in distaste. "Ophelia's clothes _are _day clothes. Can you not be normal? Even with just the clothing?"

Morticia opened her mouth to respond but Ophelia stopped her by replying, "Now, now, Mother. What happened to pleasantries first during the morning? Good morning, Mother."

"Morticia happened," Mrs. Frump murmured. She walked around the table, sat on her chair, and started eating. "And don't you dare start, Ophelia."

"Mother," Ophelia began as she and Morticia sat on their chair on either side of Mrs. Frump's. "None of us _is _normal."

"It does not have to show, does it?" their mother retorted. "You father's late again. And thank goodness you finally showed up in this family's table, Morticia."

"Regretting it already," Morticia mumbled. She picked up her dining knife and forcefully stabbed the toast on her plate.

"Have I not repeatedly told you _not _to play with your food, young lady?" Mrs. Frump barked. She glared at her daughter, and for a miniscule amount of time, a look of love and longing crossed her eyes. And as fast as it came, it was gone.

Morticia once again sighed. She let go of her knife and sat back on her chair, her arms crossed. She looked at Ophelia, who was already spreading a gray jelly on her toast, and raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow but sad nothing.

"I am not late, you just want to eat early," a deep, booming voice of a man said. He was a beefy man, but with a kind twinkle in his eyes. "And Esmeralda, stop whining about Morticia's clothes. You do that every time, and on the next meals, she does not come to the table and eat with us. I hardly see our daughter because of your rants. Good morning, angel," he said kissing Ophelia's flowery head. "Your daisies look well, Ophelia."

"Thank you, Father," she replied, looking up at Mr. Frump. "I just watered them this morning."

Mr. Frump smiled at Ophelia before crossing to the other side of the table to kiss Morticia on the head. "Good morning, my dark angel."

"Hello, Father," Morticia replied, a hint of warm affection in her voice was evident.

"That is why she continues on doing whatever nonsense she is doing, Hector," Mrs. Frump angrily said as Mr. Frump sat on his chair across hers and began eating his breakfast.

"You _spoil _her," she said after a few moments of Mr. Frump's silence to ignore her. She said the word as if it was a bowlful of fruit cereal with fresh milk. Still, Mr. Frump chose to ignore his wife's comment. He and Ophelia continued eating in silence. Morticia glared at her mother, but still said nothing.

"Eat," Mrs. Frump commanded Morticia.

Morticia closed her eyes for a few seconds before sighing and picking up her for and taking out her knife from the toast. She took a deep breath and started spread some algae jelly on the toast. When she finally took a bite, Mrs. Frump relaxed on her seat and continued eating. For a while, they looked like a traditional family, enjoying a quiet meal.

However, that illusion was disrupted when Mrs. Frump clapped her hands together to remove the bread crumbs from her hands. She briefly glanced pointedly at her husband, conveying some sort of message – if not a threat. He pursed his lips together in reply, and released the knife and fork from his grasps in a clutter, as he sat back on his chair. Morticia and Ophelia both looked at their father expectantly.

"Your mother wants to discuss something with the both of you," he simply said, not giving anything away.

Ophelia quietly laid down her knife and fork and turned to face her mother as Morticia, fully aware of her mother's irritation to most of her actions, let go of her fork on the plate and moved to stab her toast once again with her knife.

"How many times do I have to tell you, Morticia?" barked Mrs. Frump angrily. "Do not play with you –"

She was not able to finish her sentence because her daughter already stabbed the toast with her knife, before finally shifting her attention to her overly irritated mother. She curled the sides of her lips to humor Mrs. Frump's irritation.

"I'm warning you, young lady," Mrs. Frump said through gritted teeth. She took a long, deep breath before speaking again. "Now, I want to discuss about your future. Have you already decided to which college will you be going in the fall?"

"Yes, Mother," Ophelia replied, intending to pry her mother's scrutinizing glare from her sister. "I am going to West Parker and take up agrarian studies."

"Good choice," commented Mrs. Frump with a proud smile.

"I'd really want to know which plants can grow on my head," Ophelia added. "I was hoping I can grow a garden."

"That's wonderful, dear," Mrs. Frump replied, still smiling. Her warm affection visibly waned as she turned to her other daughter. Her smile melted and her eyebrows drew close to each other. "And you, Morticia?"

"Salem University, witchcraft," Morticia proudly replied. Both Ophelia and Mr. Frump smiled in agreement to Morticia's choice. But Mrs. Frump thought otherwise. Her face hardened and paled, while her eyes dance with rage.

"Salem University in Salem, Massachusetts?" she asked, her voice constricted with a mixture of fear and anger. She grabbed the table cloth so hard, as if her sanity depended on it.

"Yes," Morticia happily replied. Her happiness was very innocent, void of the usual sarcasm and estrangement she would give her mother, that when she turned to face Mrs. Frump, she was hoping to see her as happy and proud as she is, after all, Mrs. Frump had her college at Salem. But when she saw her mother's livid eyes, she gasped in fear. Mr. Frump and Ophelia's smiles also melted at the sight of Mrs. Frump's reaction.

"You will not be going to Salem," Mrs. Frump said, looking straightly to Morticia's eyes.

"What?" Morticia and Ophelia asked in identically shocked voices.

"You heard me, Morticia. You will not go to Salem," Mrs. Frump turned to her other daughter. "And stay out of this, Ophelia."

A long silence enveloped the room. The air was so thick with pressure that Morticia had a hard time breathing properly. She felt as if she was doused with a boiling pot of caramel in a rainbow colored aquarium.

"Why?" she finally asked, her voice so hushed that it was barely audible.

"You do not have to know why."

"I am a witch. I have to go to Salem."

"No,"

"You went to Salem, why shouldn't I?"

"I said, you will not be going!"

"But –"

"No buts. I said no!"

"Father…" Morticia pleaded for her father's help with very beseeching eyes that Mr. Frump could not resist.

"Esmeralda, maybe –" he began but Mrs. Frump stopped him with a glare.

"Don't you dare, Hector!" she shouted in rage. By this time, she and Morticia were standing up, both very emotional. The former, in fury of her daughter's persistence, while the latter, in pleading for her mother's change of mind. Mrs. Frump took another deep breath and sat down.

"Morticia, sit down," Mr. Frump said, trying to calm his daughter down. Morticia ignored him and remained standing. Ophelia crossed the table to Morticia's side, held her sister by the shoulders and tried to make her sit. Still, she did not budge.

"You heard your father, sit down!" Mrs. Frump cried as she glared at her. Her face was red and a vein on her temple was visibly throbbing. Reluctantly, Morticia sat down. Ophelia remained standing next to her, still holding her shoulders to show support. There was silence at first, but broken by Mrs. Frump.

"My decision is final, Morticia. You will not go to Salem. Where else were you accepted?" she asked in a tone of finality to dismiss any more discussion about Salem University. However, her daughter chose not to answer.

"Morticia…" she warned.

"Esmeralda, let us talk about this later, when the two of you have already calmed down," Mr. Frump said. He stood up to go.

"No one is leaving this table until we're done discussing about Morticia's schooling. And I am calm!" she nearly screamed, stopping her husband from leaving. He sat back down as she pressed Morticia on.

"Where else have you been accepted?" she repeated, her voice full of malice. Still, Morticia remained quiet. "Morticia! Answer me!"

Morticia winced as her mother threw her dining knife in frustration. It whizzed past her right ear, missing her about a quarter of an inch, and hitting an ancient china plate on display behind her. The plate broke and fell on the floor into hundreds of pieces.

"West Parker. Yale. And Stanford," she finally answered, her voice maintaining its hushed volume. "For literature."

"Fine, you will go to West Parker with your sister," Mrs. Frump said with a tone of finality.

"No, Mother," she spoke up, reflecting her mother's tone. "I am going to Salem."

"Why do you have to be so stubborn? So hard-headed?!" her mother asked. She balled her fists in irritation. "I clearly remember that I said no!"

"Alright, if you will keep on insisting on what _you _want given the irony that what we are having is a discussion," Morticia began. "I will not go to college at all."

"What?" Ophelia incredulously asked. She dropped her hands from her sister's shoulder.

"Morticia, you should give this a further thought," Mr. Frump added, similarly shocked as Ophelia.

"No, Father. I'd rather not go to college at all if I will not be studying in Salem," Morticia replied. She challenged her mother's glare.

"Then leave this house," Mrs. Frump retorted.

"Esmeralda!" Mr. Frump exclaimed as he stood up in defense for their daughter. "Do not be rash!"

"It's alright, Father," Morticia quietly said, adapting the calm intonation she previously had. "I will leave if that is Mother's wish."

She pushed her chair back and stood up to go.

"Leave this dwelling and do not bother coming back," Mrs. Frump warned as Morticia was about to step out of the room. "And you will be cut off."

Morticia swiveled and faced her mother. Her eyes were like circles of Antarctic glaciers. She smiled without humor.

"Like that matters to me, Mother," she frostily said. Then she turned around and continued walking away.

Ophelia, however shocked, pursued her sister. Mr. Frump glared at his wife but said nothing, before pushing his chair backwards with so much force that the legs broke off. He turned his heel, and followed his daughters out the dining room.

Mrs. Frump raised an eyebrow in amusement before taking another toast from the bread basket, buttered it, and once again ate, as if nothing happened.

* * *

"Morticia, wait!" Ophelia called. Morticia stopped walking. She faced her sister, waiting for her to catch up despite her want to just ignore Ophelia. She glanced behind her sister and saw her father coming as well.

"You are not seriously considering the idea of leaving, are you?" Ophelia asked the moment she reached her sister.

"I have never been this serious in my life. And she wants me to," Morticia nonchalantly replied with a shrug. "Besides, why should I study in a place where I do not want to? And study a discipline that does not interest me? I'd rather not."

"But darling, you cannot just leave," Mr. Frump countered.

"And you are interested in literature, European literature, to be exact," Ophelia added.

"Of course, I can, Father," she replied, ignoring her sister's comment. "I am of age, and I can use my savings to go…"

"Where?" Ophelia pressed on.

"I do not know. Anywhere but her, I suppose."

"And what will you do?" her father asked, his voice full of concern.

"Father," Ophelia began. Her eyes were full of panic and her hands were shaking in anxiety. "You cannot let Morticia leave! You heard what Mother said, once she leaves, she cannot come back!"

"Do not worry about me, Ophelia, dear. I will be fine," Morticia reassured her twin sister. She turned to her father. "I do not know. Perhaps find a job that will finance my education at Salem. Or look for a scholarship for me in Salem."

"Darling, I am sorry I was not able to defend you from your mother," Mr. Frump apologetically said. "When we started this family, we both agreed that she will be in charge of your education."

"It was not your fault, Father. And I am not blaming you for not defending me," she replied with a weak smile. She patted her father's shoulder to console him.

"Morticia, please," Ophelia begged. Her eyes were brimming with tears. She took Morticia's free hand and squeezed it, trying to convey a silent message. Then she added, "Please don't leave."

"I never knew you are very much attached to me, Ophelia," Morticia said, her lips slightly parted in an amused smile.

"You are my only sister," Ophelia replied, as if that already explained her actions. "So will you please _not _leave?"

Morticia sighed. "I just do not understand why she won't let me go to Salem. She went there, why shouldn't I?"

"Salem University was a traumatic place for your mother, you should understand that," Mr. Frump told Morticia and Ophelia.

"Quite contrary to what we've seen," objected Morticia.

"What do you mean?"

"We saw Mother's mementos from college," Ophelia said. "Her year books, some correspondence during the school year, even her college diary entries said that her stay in Salem was wonderful."

"Those encouraged me to go to Salem," Morticia added.

Mr. Frump closed his eyes and sighed. When he opened them, they were raw and fragile, showing great sadness.

"Something terrible happened in Salem," he finally said after a long pause.

"We know," the twins replied in unison. "Aunt Esther."

"How…?"

"We saw her death certificate in the attic together with Mother's college things," Ophelia answered as if that was obvious.

"And we saw an article from an old newspaper years ago, saying that at big explosion killed an unnamed female student in Salem," Morticia added. "Besides, you cannot expect us to buy your preposterous story of how Aunt Esther died. Who would die in overdose of cyanide?"

"Then you _should _understand why your mother is against you going to Salem," Mr. Frump replied.

"Not at all," Morticia objected. "What happened to Aunt Esther was caused by a number of circumstances, not necessarily applicable to me. Besides, given my knowledge of what Aunt Esther did, I know what I must not do. Over the years, science has proven and disputed a lot of things. I know better."

"I know that your mother knows that –"

"Does she really?"

"Of course she does," Mr. Frump sighed. "But she does not want to gamble your chances."

"She does not trust me then,"

"No, darling. She is just afraid that what happened to her sister might happen to her daughter. She doesn't want to lose you, given that you are the complete resemblance of your Aunt Esther."

"So because of her fear, I cannot do what I want to do?" Morticia asked. "That is hardly fair, Father."

"Please reconsider this," Ophelia insisted. "I do not want you to go. Doesn't that give any weight for a change of heart?"

"I am sorry, Ophelia," Morticia replied, her eyes mirroring her sister's sadness. She shrugged, trying to look nonchalant. She waved her hand, gesturing towards the totality of the house. "Mother made her decision, and I made mine. Leaving this house seems to be the only thing we can agree on."

"Father! Please do something," Ophelia pleaded. She was bouncing on the balls of her feet; the petals of the daisies on her head were showering both Mr. Frump and Morticia.

"You will be fine, Ophelia," Morticia assured with a slight smile. "You will be an only child."

"Oh, Morticia, don't kid! This is serious!"

"I am serious, Ophelia."

"How about a compromise, darling?" Mr. Frump asked, interrupting the twins. They both abruptly faced him.

"What compromise?" Morticia asked warily.

"You will study Literature in West Parker, and I will finance your post-graduate study in Salem," he proposed. "Or better yet, in Transylvania."

"Tr… Transyl… vania?" Morticia asked incredulously, at which Mr. Frump nodded at. After a moment's thought, she finally responded. "This is not a compromise, Father. This is a bribe. A bribe for me to do what Mother wants."

"Be that as it may, I only want you to stay here," he answered.

"Well…" Morticia began.

"Oh, Morticia!" Ophelia cried. "Accept Father's offer, for goodness' sake!"

"Alright, alright," Morticia replied, putting up her hands in defeat.

"Oh, thank you, Morticia!" Ophelia almost screamed. She threw her hands around her sister and locked her in a tight embrace. She angled her head towards Mr. Frump. "Thank you, too, Father!"

"Ophelia," Morticia rasped. "I cannot breathe."

"Oh, sorry!" Ophelia replied as she let go of her sister. "I am just so happy that you are staying!"

"So I see," Morticia replied with a smile. She looked at her father and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. "At the moment, I do not know how I should feel about our arrangement. But I supposed I should be grateful. Thank you Father."

"You are most welcome, Morticia," he replied. "It makes me happy to see the two of you happy."

"Happy…" Morticia murmured, weighing the word on her tongue. Right now, she does not know whether she likes it or not. Especially now that Ophelia linked an arm around hers, distracting her thoughts. She smiled sweetly at Morticia and batted her eyelids.

"What?" Morticia asked suspiciously. She narrowed her eyes and turned to analyze her sister's unusual behavior.

"Let's go shopping!" Ophelia exclaimed in a musical tone. Her eyes were giddy with unexpected excitement.

"Shopping for what?" Morticia asked.

"Clothes!"

"Clothes?" she repeated, raising an eyebrow.

"For the fall, of course!"

"Ophelia, you and I have a very different taste for clothes. I do not see how we could shop together."

"Of course we can, spoilsport" Ophelia countered. "The ghastlier you think the clothes are, the more I like it. And it goes vice versa! We match perfectly!"

"Hmmm, you do have a point," Morticia replied after a moment of contemplation. "But we both cannot drive. How are we supposed to go downtown?"

The twins thought for a moment. Then an identical glint appeared in their eyes as they knowingly looked at each other in agreement. They slowly turned towards their father and smiled sweetly at him.

"Alright, alright," he said, smiling broadly. "I will drive you downtown."

"Thank you, Father!"

* * *

**END OF CHAPTER 1. I HOPE YOU ENJOYED IT!**


	2. Chapter 2: Lost Brother

A handsome, Castilian young man with sleek, pomaded dark hair with a matching pencil mustache, reached out for a noose hanging in the vast receiving room, and pulled it down. A very loud sound shook the house but the young man did not bat an eyelid. Instead, he took out an unlit cigar from his breast pocket and put it in his mouth. Surprisingly, as he sucked in on it, the cigar lit up. As he puffed out a cloud of smoke, an eight-foot tall, monstrous creature, quite Frankenstein-like, walked towards him.

"You rang?" the monster growled. Despite his unusual features, the playful glint in his eyes showed his real, harmless nature.

"Yes, Lurch," the young man replied. "I would like to borrow the car keys from you. I am going to the hospital."

"Here, Mr. Addams," the creature called Lurch growled as he reached deep in his trouser pocket for the car keys. He handed them to the young man. Then he took the feather duster tucked under his other arm.

"Thank you, Lurch," he replied taking the keys and divesting them in his pants pocket. "I better get going. Good bye, Lurch."

Lurch raised a hand and waived at the young man's retreating figure. There was a loud slam from the front door, followed by a harsh humming of a car engine, then a series of squealing tires, and the young man was gone.

"Lurch, where is Gomez off to?" an old woman with frizzy, flyaway, gray hair asked. She wrapped her sequined shawl over her shoulders and walked towards Lurch.

"Mr. Addams went to the hospital," he growled.

The old woman sighed. "He went to see the Amore twins."

Lurch shook his head dejectedly and growled incoherently.

"He's been going there for almost a year but he still hasn't got a clue as to where Fester might be," the old woman said. She turned to Lurch. "Well, you may go now, Lurch. I'm sure you have other things to do. I'll deal with Gomez when he comes back."

"Thank you, Mrs. Addams," Lurch politely growled before shuffling away.

Mrs. Addams walked towards the box next to the telephone. She sat down on the chair in front of it before knocking on the box. With a creak, the box opened, revealing a decapitated hand.

"Hello, Thing," Mrs. Addams said. The hand waved in greeting. "I would just like to talk about Gomez. He is on his way to the Amore twins today."

Thing mimed talking, as if to say that Gomez probably only wants to talk to the Amore twins, and there is nothing wrong with that.

"But he has been seeing them for almost a year and he still doesn't have a clue as to where Fester might be," Mrs. Addams countered.

Thing sank in its box and tapped a series of Morse code, which Mrs. Addams intently listened to. When it finished, Thing showed itself to Mrs. Addams and waited for an answer.

"I know he feels terribly guilty about Fester's disappearance," she said. She stood up and started pacing to and fro. "It's just that I am worried about Gomez. Since he discovered where Flora and Fauna are confined, he seemed to have become obsessed with them."

Thing sank again in its box and tapped another series of Morse code.

"I also want to find Fester," Mrs. Addams said. "But I am afraid of the Amore twins' reaction when they finally come to their senses and see Gomez. I ask you, Thing, can you forgive Gomez if you are one of the Amore twins?"

The hand gestured as if to shrug. Then it pointed to Mrs. Addams, who already stopped pacing, as if to ask her in return.

"No," Mrs. Addams quietly said. "Gomez is my son and I love him. But what he did to those poor girls was… unforgivable. And I cannot blame Fester for leaving. I just think this has gone too far, for the both of them."

For the third time, Thing sank in its box and tapped another message.

"Oh, I hope so, too, Thing," Mrs. Addams agreed. "And hopefully the séance tonight will bring back Fester. Thank you, Thing."

The hand put its forefinger and thumb together, creating a circle as if to say, 'you're welcome', before closing its box and sinking to its depths.

"My sons," Mrs. Addams murmured sadly before leaving.

* * *

As the young man drove, he could not stop himself from thinking about what happened seven years ago that drove his brother away.

_*flashback*_

_"Good news!" the young man, in his mid-adolescent age, triumphantly said as he enter a cavernous and quite museum-like receiving room, not unlike the room he was at moments ago. His arrival interrupted the conversation of a young, round, bald man and a younger Mrs. Addams. The two turned to face the young man._

_"What is it Gomez, dear?" Mrs. Addams kindly asked._

_"I now have a girlfriend," the young man, whose name was Gomez, smugly said. "Well, two girlfriends, actually."_

_"Two? Isn't that quite inappropriate, darling?" she politely asked, not intending to hurt her son's feelings._

_"I hardly think so, Mama," he replied, his tone showing his slight confusion. "Besides, I cannot have either of them alone. Might as well have them both."_

_"You talk about women as if they are just some carcass to play with, Gomez," the bald, young man reprimanded._

_"Well, a man has to have something to play with, shouldn't he Fester, brother?" Gomez asked his older brother, still retaining the air of smugness in his voice._

_"Just like men, women have feelings as well, Gomez. And you should not play with them," Fester, the bald, older brother, replied. He eyed his brother with a mixture of sadness and distaste. Then he added in an undertone, "You should know that."_

_Gomez scoffed at his brother and made a face at him._

_"I do not need a lecture, Fester," he said. "Besides, don't you want to know who I am in a relationship with?"_

_Fester balled his fists angrily, but Mrs. Addams put a restraining hand on his shoulder._

_"Who are they, darling?" she asked._

_"Flora and Fauna Amore!" Gomez proudly announced._

_"The Amore twins?" Fester incredulously asked. His knees buckled, forcing him to sink on the floor of the receiving room. Mrs. Addams tried to carry him onto a chair but he was deadweight in despair of his brother's news._

_"The very same," Gomez answered, ignoring Fester's disposition. "Thought you can have all the women, eh, brother?"_

_"Of all… why… Amore twins?" Fester asked, almost incoherently. His already pale skin turned gray as he tried to regulate his ragged breathing._

_"I guess they like me better than they like you, Fester," Gomez said with a casual shrug. He turned around and opened his arms in a welcoming gesture. "And here they come! Welcome to our home, Flora and Fauna!"_

_Two girls, or so it seemed, entered the room. Both were quite beautiful, but with signs of insanity looming in their eyes. At first glance, they looked as if they are very closed with each other, but upon further scrutiny, they are actually conjoint from neck down. They have one set of arm and legs, and they share a torso. None of these physical characteristics fazed the Addamses._

_"Gomez!" the girl on the left side squealed delightfully._

_"My love!" the girl on the right purred._

_They reached out a hand and grabbed Gomez by the shoulder before pulling him closer. They both showered him with kisses._

_"I've missed you, my sweet Flora," Gomez told the girl on the left as he kissed her hand. Then he turned to the other one and kissed her hand, as well. "You as well, my darling Fauna."_

_*end of flashback*_

Going back to that memory, Gomez admitted to himself that he knew from the beginning that Fester adored the Amore twins. He knew that the mere fact of him having Flora and Fauna is enough to drive Fester crazy. And he also knew that once his brother learns his real intention towards the twins, it would bring him to his wit's end. And it did.

_*flashback*_

_"Thing?" Gomez called in a hush voice._

_It was in the middle of the night and he just arrived home. No one in the mansion noticed his late arrival, thanks to Gate who dutifully and quietly opened itself to admit the Addams' old car driven by Gomez. Lurch did not greet Gomez on the front door, which spared him the butler's grunts and groans of a lecture. The only member of the household he was certain of not lecturing him for his late arrival was his friend, also a decapitated hand, Thing._

_That was why when Gomez reached his room, he was calling for the hand._

_Though it has already been sleeping for several hours, Thing woke up and opened his box near Gomez's room's windowsill. It waved sleepily at Gomez._

_"Ah, there you are, Thing," he said as he absentmindedly threw his gray pinstripe jacket on the floor of his room, followed by his same colored necktie. Gomez sat on the windowsill, right next to Thing's box. "Do you mind if I talk to you right now?"_

_Thing shook itself to tell Gomez that it did not mind a midnight chat._

_"Good," he replied. He kicked off his shoes and raised his feet on the windowsill. "The Amore twins and I have been in a relationship for three months now and they still haven't realized a thing!"_

_In its confusion, Thing sank in its box and tapped a message in Morse code._

_"Oh, you know what I mean," Gomez replied, giving a heartfelt, slightly cruel laugh. "They truly believe that I love them. As if I would!"_

_He burst out laughing uncontrollably._

_"I mean, for three months we've been playing the same ridiculous boring game of Flora-Fauna. They would say a name, may it be a scientific name, common name, its translation to different languages, whatever, and I would guess if that was a flora or a fauna._

_"Today, their taste for a game got even weirder. We played hide-and-seek for almost two hours, with me being the it, because obviously none of them can hide while the other one seeks. So they decided that they will both hide. They even got the idea of hiding wrong! The twins thought that if their face is hidden, I cannot find them. They actually believed that I was so attached to them that by intuition, I can easily find them. They are probably the most stupid people I will ever meet."_

_Thing tapped another message._

_"Haven't I told you why I am dating, in a relationship, whatever, with them?" Gomez asked. Thing shoot itself to say 'no'. "I'm just making fun of them and Fester! And the Amore twins are so gullible to believe me. And Fester, well… he thinks he's so dashing, that women swoon over him, that he can anyone of them. Well, I proved him wrong. The women he truly adore – Flora and Fauna, that is – are all over me that they cannot even remember his name!_

_"He ought to know that he is not the greatest. I am," he finished. Gomez's eyes were pitiless and content, like he believed that what he was doing was right. He smiled. "Thing, did you see how devastated Fester was when he saw the Amore twins smoldering me with kisses? Ha! He almost melted on the carpet!"_

_Thing tapped one word: wrong._

_"Oh, Thing, do not be such a spoil sport!" Gomez said, looking a bit irritated with his friend. "I am just having fun! When Fester learns about this, he will just laugh with me and say I was so clever of thinking up this big joke."_

_"No, I won't," a cold, angry voice said._

_Gomez turned his head towards the speaker and saw Fester standing by Gomez's door, looking livid. Thing jumped inside its box and closed its lid with a nervous snap._

_"Forgot our manners, haven't we, Fester?" Gomez casually asked. He did not seem to mind his brother overhearing his conversation with Thing._

_"The door was open," Fester answered coldly. His eyes were hooded, masking the anger he was feeling. He balled his fists to prevent himself from touching anything in his brother's room and tearing it apart._

_"Have a seat," Gomez invited with a malicious smile. "Feel comfortable, brother."_

_"I'd rather not," Fester declined._

_Gomez stared at Fester upon hearing his anguished tone. He frowned to show his confusion about his brother's reaction._

_"Are you mad?" he asked incredulously._

_"Take back what you said about the Amore twins," Fester growled, ignoring his brother's question._

_"Which one?"_

_"Everything,"_

_"Why should I? They're all true."_

_"Why are you doing this, Gomez?"_

_"I am just having fun, Fester."_

_"Toying with women's emotions is not a form of entertainment."_

_"Why do you care, Fester?"_

_"It's none of your business."_

_"Neither is it yours. I will do what I want to do. I am not even bothering you, you are just jealous,"_

_"Me? On the contrary, I believe it is you."_

_Gomez let out a hallow laugh that did not reach his eyes. In fact, his eyes showed signs of guilt, which was fortunately for him, was unnoticed by Fester._

_"Why should I be jealous of you?" he asked._

_"If you are not, then explain to me why of all girls, you chose the Amore twins."_

_"Your ego is inexplicable, Fester," Gomez huffed. "You actually believe that I chose to be in a relationship with the Amore twins because you think I am jealous of you? Please, Fester, do not make me laugh."_

_"I heard every word you said to Thing, Gomez," Fester almost screamed._

_"Then you do not need me to explain my actions," Gomez replied. He took a cigar from his bedside table, which lit up the moment he put it in his mouth. He huffed on the cigar and blew a cloud of smoke to Fester's face._

_"We are not getting anywhere in this talk, Gomez," Fester said as he waved the smoke away. "I do not understand how and why you believe that I think that I am dashing. The mere fact that you think that way proves that you are envious of me. But I'd say that you have nothing to be jealous of me. I am not stealing women's attention from you._

_"In fact, the only attention that I want is the one you took away from me – the one from the Amore twins. And you decided to toy with them to get back at me." Fester's livid eyes melted and turned pleading. "Gomez, please, I beg you, leave Flora and Fauna alone."_

_"Why should I do that?" Gomez asked curiously, but his eyes retaining their coldness._

_"Because… because I love them," Fester admitted in a hushed voice._

_Upon hearing his brother's response, a notorious glint shone in Gomez's eyes. He smiled triumphantly._

_"You shouldn't have handed your opponent a hand grenade, Fester," he said._

_"I do not understand," Fester asked, puzzled. He frowned, trying to process what his brother just said._

_"After all that you did to me, you believe that I would take pity on you?"_

_"What did I do to you?"_

_"You denied me with the only thing I wanted!"_

_"What…?"_

_"Attention!" Gomez shouted. He threw his half-smoked cigar out the window. "You are the first born, so naturally, Mama and Papa's attention is totally yours. When I was born, they were disappointed that I was not a girl. That was the reason why Papa died. I saw his will, everything is yours! You are our parents' favorite!"_

_"That's not true, Gomez!" Fester cried._

_"Do not lie to me, Fester! And when we were growing up, even strangers take more interest in you! The last straw is the girls."_

_"Girls?"_

_"At school! They… they fawn over you! They would only talk to me to look for you. And now that I know how much the Amore twins mean to you, I will make you feel the hurt I am feeling ever since I can remember."_

_"Gomez, stop this! Should I knock some sense into you?"_

_"Oh, do not get smart on me, Fester!"_

_"I will tell Flora and Fauna," threatened Fester, thinking that it would stop his brother's revenge. Gomez's response was a merciless laugh._

_"As if I care, Fester. Besides, do you think they will believe you?" he asked as he shook his head with a slight laugh. "They won't. Not after everything that I told them about you."_

_Fester blazed with anger. He advanced to Gomez and took hold of him by the collar of his shirt._

_"What did you tell them?" he asked, deeply outraged._

_"I told them that the reason why you befriended them was because you had a bet with a friend of yours. That if you made one of them fall in love with you, you would get a box of dynamite caps. And if the two of them fall in love with you, the box of dynamite caps doubles," Gomez said. He smiled at his brother smugly, enjoying the hurt dancing I his eyes._

_"How dare you!" Fester growled. He pushed Gomez, sending him to crash on his open closet doors with much force that it fell off its hinges and splintered under Gomez._

_"And you know what else?" Gomez asked, still toying with his brother's deranged state. "They admitted to me that they already loved you. You should have seen how hurt they were. They both cried on my shoulders, swearing that they will never forgive you."_

_"You… you son of a bitch!" Fester cried in pure hatred. He raised his right arm and punched Gomez on the face._

_Gomez landed by his bedroom door. When he looked up, a river of blood was flowing out of his mouth. Fester walked towards him, lifted him by the arms, and was about to hit him again when the door opened from the outside, sending them together on the floor._

_"What is happening here?" Mrs. Addams cried as she scanned Gomez's room. She cried out when she saw the blood gushing out from her younger son's mouth. "Gomez!"_

_She rushed to his side but felt a harsh push, which threw her off balanced._

_"I'm sorry, Mama," Fester growled. He raised an arm to hit Gomez once again but Lurch held his arm tight, preventing him from hitting his brother._

_"You haven't heard the last of this, Gomez!" he shouted as he snatched his arm from Lurch and walking out of the room, helping his mother up on his way._

* * *

_Despite he already achieved his goal of hurting his brother, Gomez did not feel happy as he assumed. He almost wanted to apologize to Fester, but he could not allow himself to. He had also stopped coming over the Amore's and ignoring the twins' calls for the past days that it did not surprise him to hear their voices downstairs. Frankly, he was quite irritated that they were bothering to see him. But from his room, it would seem that they were having an argument with someone. Curious and completely bored, Gomez decided to see what was happening._

_He was at the top of the stairs when he saw that it was to Fester the twins were arguing with. Fester had his back at the stairs, giving Gomez no idea what his emotion was. However, he could clearly see the tears streaming down Fauna's eyes and the anguish look on Flora's face. They both turned to him as he reached the foot of the stairs. Fester also turned to face him._

_"Gomez, please tell me that Fester is lying about you," Fauna begged, her eyes continuing to let go of tears._

_"You got some nerve talking to us, Fester," Flora angrily said. "After all what you did to us?"_

_"How many times do I have to tell you that what he told you were all lies?" Fester hysterically asked, pointing on Gomez. "Ask him, yourself!"_

_"Gomez?" Fauna repeated, still crying._

_Feeling numb and confused, and simply having no care anymore, Gomez nonchalantly shrugged. "Yes, I guess that was true."_

_"Which one?" Flora asked in a shocked voice. In surprise, her eyes were as big as china plates._

_"Whatever Fester has told you," he replied, maintaining a blank face and an emotionless voice. He raised a hand to tick off a list. "Fester playing with you, because frankly, I am the one doing that. Me having interest to the two of you. Me loving you, because I really do not care about either of you. And well, everything that I told and shown you, were not true."_

_"Waaah!" Fauna cried uncontrollably._

_"You mean, you have been toying with our emotions?" Flora quietly asked, but her eyes were livid._

_"That would be correct," he answered nonchalantly. He turned to Fester, "Happy now, brother?"_

_Before Fester could reply, a loud thud sounded. He and Gomez turned to the Amore twins and saw the two of them lying unconscious on the floor. At the same moment, the front door opened, revealing a muscular couple – Mr. and Mrs. Amore._

_"What did you do to our daughters?" Mrs. Amore cried as Mr. Amore carried the twins. They both glared at Gomez, demanding for an answer._

_"They fainted," he simply replied, showing completely no care for either Flora or Fauna._

_"But why did they faint?" Mrs. Amore pressed. And as quickly as they fainted, the twins regained consciousness just as quick. However, neither one of them spoke. Their eyes were glassy and blank, as if they were put under a deep spell. Mr. Amore put them down but they remained motionless and speechless._

_"What did you do to them?" Mr. Amore asked in alarm. He snapped his fingers in front of the twins' faces but neither bat an eyelid. Fester waved his hand in front of them but still received no response._

_"What did you do to them?" Mr. Amore repeated, his voice showing hints of panic._

_"I will tell you what happened to them, Mr. Amore," Fester spoke up. "But we need to get them to the hospital before they could sink any deeper."_

_"What?" Mr. Amore asked in confusion._

_"What? They are fine!" Mrs. Amore added._

_"No, they are not," Fester countered. "Come, Mr. Amore!"_

_Blindly following Fester, Mr. Amore held Flora's hand as the former took Fauna's limp hand. Together, they half-dragged, half-carried the twins out of the house._

_"But… but, what happened?" Mrs. Amore asked desperately, which briefly stopped Fester from taking another step. He turned around to face his brother, who still was looking blank and without any care. He did not let go of Fauna Amore's hand as he pointed an accusing finger at his brother. His eyes sparkled with anguished tears._

_"Thanks to him, Flora and Fauna Amore are insane," he said. Mr. and Mrs. Amore gasped at the same time, but neither got the chance to say something as Fester turned around and left, the front door closing behind him._

_Gomez remembered until this day the hurt and anguished look on Fester's face as he left. And that was the last time he saw Fester Addams._

_*end of flashback*_

Due to the depth of his reminiscing, Gomez did not notice that he already reached Manhattan Psychological Institute. He parked the car near the hospital's entrance and took the things he brought, before entering the institution.

"Good day, Mr. Addams," the guard at the front door of the hospital greeted as he opened the door for Gomez.

"Hello, Nicolas," Gomez greeted in return. He held up the two brown paper bags from the nearby grocery store he was holding to show it to the guard, Nicolas. "I'm bringing something for the twins, I hope it's alright?"

"Sure," Nicolas nodded with a smile. "Catherine is on the front desk today, it won't be a problem."

"Thank you," Gomez replied, also smiling although it did not quite reach his eyes. The guard, however, did not seem to care or notice. Instead, he tipped off his hat at him before he resumed manning his post by the hospital's doors.

Gomez walked to the front desk and greeted the receptionist with a dashing smile and a wink. Though his smile still did not reach his eyes, the receptionist blushed furiously. She tossed her overly curled brunette hair over her shoulders and grinned at him, showing her shining braces and twin dimples, while batting her eyelashes behind her big, round glasses that magnified her eyes several times.

"Hello, Fester," Catherine said with a slight lisp. She continued staring at him like some sort of overgrown insect.

At the mention of the name, Gomez's smile melted and his eyes became very morose. This however, was either ignored or was not noticed by Catherine, much like Nicolas from earlier.

"So, what can I help you with, Fester?" she asked, waking him from his morose reminiscing.

"Oh, I brought champagne. Today is the Amore twins' birthday, you see," he replied distractedly. "I was hoping you would let me sneak it in."

"Of course, I would!" Catherine exclaimed with a wink. "Anything for you, Fester."

Gomez smiled half-heartedly at her before leaving the front desk. He was halfway to the Amore twins' room when he was stopped by a doctor under the name of Brent Klein.

"Ah, Fester!" the doctor greeted. "There you are, good, good. Come with me, won't you? There are some people I would like you to meet. Or should I say, I would like them to meet you?"

Doctor Klein let out a booming laugh.

"Why, Doctor Klein?" Gomez asked warily. Somehow he had a bad feeling about the upcoming introductions.

"All in good time," Doctor Klein replied mysteriously, which quite irritated Gomez. They continued walking until they reached Flora and Fauna's room. The good doctor went in first, followed by Gomez.

"Here he is, in the flesh! Fester Addams, the man I have been telling you about. He who have been giving much progress to the twins for the past year, more than I have for the last seven years!" Doctor Klein proudly introduced.

Gomez met the eyes of the two people inside the room besides him, the twins – who were happy to see him – and they doctor, and almost fainted in shock – it's Mr. and Mrs. Amore! They seemed as angry as the last time he saw them.

"That is not Fester Addams!" cried Mr. Amore angrily. "That is _Gomez _Addams! The man I remember to be banned from seeing my daughters!"

"What? No, no, Mr. Amore," Doctor Klein sputtered nervously. "You must be mistaken, this is Fester. Right, Fester?"

"Do you think I do not know the man who deceived my daughters?" Mr. Amore angrily barked at Doctor Klein.

"O – of course not, Mr. Amore,"

"I should have been suspicious when you said that Fester visits Flora and Fauna regularly," Mrs. Amore said, shaking her head. "Fester's been missing for seven years!"

"Gomez! Gomez!" the Amore twins called, their arms trying to reach him under the protective backs of their parents.

"Don't you dare come closer to them," Mr. Amore warned.

"I am very sorry, Mr. Amore. I really am," Gomez meekly said. "I only –"

"I do not care!" Mr. Amore shouted. "You brought my daughters here, Addams! Leave!"

Having no other options, Gomez left without another word.

"I want him banned from this institution, Doctor Klein. Do you understand?" he heard Mrs. Amore commanded over the twins' hysterical cries.

"At this rate, I will never find my lost brother," Gomez murmured dejectedly to himself as he started the car. With a roar of the engine, he drove away, feeling more desperate of his brother's loss.

* * *

**End of Chapter 2. I hope you like this chapter. Thank you for those who commented on my work, I really appreciate it. I will be waiting for your suggestions and comments. Chapter 3 would still be about the separate lives of Morticia and Gomez. Sorry for keeping the suspense up, I am thinking of making them see each other by the end of Chapter 3 and a full blown Morticia-Gomez romance on Chapter 4. :D**


	3. Chapter 3: New Home

"What about that house?" Ophelia asked as she pointed at a house two blocks down, shaking Morticia out of her brooding state.

"How can you make out that house?" Mrs. Frump asked, rolling down the car window on her side of the car and straining her neck to look. "It's too far! Hector, why don't you drive down there so we can take a look?"

The Frumps have been driving around the outskirts of West Parker University's campus for almost one and half hours in search for Morticia's and Ophelia's new home for the next four years during their stay at West Parker. They already spent thirty minutes scouting the inside campus and found no dorm that fit their liking. Though very reluctant to come, and very much bored, it was Morticia who suggested that they should try looking for an apartment outside the campus grounds.

It was already the third week of August, that was why most apartments were full or already reserved. The other apartments which were still accepting tenants were either too clean or too loud for both Morticia and Ophelia.

"Oh, it's perfect!" Ophelia murmured excitedly, as Mr. Frump parked in front of the house she saw.

"It is condemned," Morticia commented, clearly amused of her sister's definition of the word perfect. She eyed the house with apparent intrigue. Never has she seen a house so disheveled that most of its roof shingles were falling off; its windows, if not cracked, were boarded up; the screen door on the about-to-collapse porch were hanging by just a rusty hinge; and upon further scrutiny, the front door was splintered and needed a new painting job. Actually, the whole house seemed to be abandoned for at least five years that its walls were stained with water marks and the white finishing it used to have was tinted with a thick layer of dust and dirt.

But what truly caught Morticia's attention was a big willow tree planted beside the house with some of its branches touching the balcony of one of the rooms in the second floor.

"So?" Ophelia asked, looking at her sister strangely. "I have always dreamt of living in a haunted house, and this is pretty close."

"You really like this house?" Mrs. Frump asked, eyeing the dilapidated dwelling with great distaste. "It looks like it is about to collapse the moment you stop foot in it."

"Please, Mother, do not exaggerate," Ophelia almost scoffed. "I do like this house, don't you, Morticia?"

Morticia dropped her gaze from the willow tree and faced her sister with a very rare but purely happy smile that made her blue eyes sparkle. "I do… very much. I think this house is lovely."

"You think this house is lovely?" questioned a middle aged woman from an overgrown bush that almost hid her from view.

"Yes, my sister and I believe so," Ophelia answered brightly.

Morticia, however, eyed the woman with apparent interest. She tilted her head to one side and asked politely, "Pardon me for asking, but who are you?"

The woman stepped out of the bushes to reveal that she was wearing a worn out jeans and oversized black collared shirt. Her black cowboy boots were thinly covered with dirt, as if the woman was tending her garden before seeing the Frumps. "I am Elizabeth Parker," she said. "I am the caretaker of this house."

"I doubt that you truly took care of this house," Mrs. Frump murmured to herself, unaware that everyone heard her snide comment.

"Oh, I do, Madam," Elizabeth replied to Mrs. Frump's rude comment. "I do my best to maintain this house according to the owner's wishes."

"I see," Ophelia commented, her awe-struck eyes showing how impressed she was.

"You mean to say that this house if not abandoned?" Morticia questioned softly.

"Not at all, my dear," Elizabeth answered with a casual smile. Morticia felt herself growing fond of the caretaker for some unknown reason, "I live in the cottage behind this house with my son, Christian. He and I keep the main house in shape."

"It is in shape, indeed," Mrs. Frump sarcastically said.

"Esmeralda, stop it," Mr. Frump reprimanded. He glared at her pointedly, which she returned stubbornly.

Choosing to ignore Mrs. Frump's airheaded responses, Elizabeth turned to Morticia and Ophelia. "Would you like to come inside and have a look around?"

"No, we'd rather not," Mrs. Frump said before either Morticia or Ophelia could respond. "Come along everyone, we will look for other apartments."

"Esmeralda, I told you, stop it!" Mr. Frump scolded. "You got to decide where your daughters go to in college; now let them decide where they want to stay."

"Thank you, Father," Ophelia replied, rolling her eyes in exasperation towards her mother. She looked at Morticia, knowing that they were thinking of the same thing: that Mr. Frump just voiced out Morticia's thoughts.

Morticia turned to Elizabeth with a slight, contented smile. "Please lead the way, Mrs. Parker. We would love to see the whole house."

Elizabeth returned her smile before fetching a ring of keys from her belt holster. She walked to the porch, which of course, did not collapse under her weight. At the sight of the screen door hanging by a single hinge, Elizabeth sighed and shook her head.

She took out a screw driver from her back pocket and unscrewed the screen door from its hinge. With slight effort, she moved it aside. She turned to the Frumps, and apologized. "I am sorry you have to see that. I will have the door fixed by tomorrow morning, don't worry."

She unlocked the front door and held out a welcoming hand as she smiled invitingly at them. Morticia and Ophelia excitedly stepped onto the porch, which still did not collapse, ready to enter the house. Mr. Frump followed them but their mother stubbornly stayed put.

"I will not enter that house! It's unstable!" she almost cried out.

"Madam, I assure you that it will not crumble," Elizabeth persuaded.

"Oh, just let her be, Mrs. Parker," Morticia said in a low voice. Then she turned to her mother, shrugging, "You do not have to come in."

"True," Ophelia added with a trace of irritation crossing her usually perky eyes. "You can just stay outside while we take a look around the house."

Before Mrs. Frump could reply or even open her mouth to respond, the four of them piled inside the house, slamming the door loudly. Having no choice, she leaned on the car and waited rather impatiently.

Upon entering the house, Elizabeth pulled down a lever on the wall and a dim light flooded the receiving area. The three Frumps were instantly impressed with the décor and furniture. The walls were covered with faded maroon wallpaper that was peeling off at some areas, showing the true color of the walls, which were the lightest granite gray.

The entrance was at the dead center of the house. On their right was a coffee brown, long couch facing an old television set placed upon a vast mahogany cabinet with a low table between them. On their left was a brick red fireplace with a pair of worn out but comfortable-looking armchairs. On top of the fireplace was a mantelpiece, waiting to adorn memoirs. The source of the dim light was a simple yet elegant piece of chandelier hanging on the first floor's ceiling.

Stepping further in the house, Ophelia saw a magnificent kitchen, obviously made during the medieval times. In front of the stove stood a handsome breakfast nook and opposite that was a mahogany table that seats four.

What truly excited Morticia was the wild garden beyond the kitchen and dining area. The place was full of overgrown weeds and wild flowers. Ophelia joined her sister and started planning where to plant her daisies, almost starting an argument between her and Morticia.

"My daisies can beautify this garden! I can plant them around the perimeter, leaving the center open so I can water them easily. Or I can plant different species of daisies. I can divide the garden in several rows – or columns, I cannot decide which is better! Anyways, I think –"

"What about Cleopatra?" Morticia interrupted. Her voice was soft, trying to mask her sudden irritation. Though she tried to sound nonchalant, Morticia could not stop herself from raising an eyebrow and crossing her arms.

"Sorry, what?" Ophelia asked distractedly. She stepped on the overgrowth and started imagining where she would be planting her daisies. This made Morticia more irritated.

"Where will I put Cleopatra?" she almost snapped, sounding each word with too much precision for she could not further hide her irritation. "You perfectly know that Cleopatra is allergic to your daisies."

"Well, she can have a pot and stay in your room," Ophelia replied shortly. Now, she was miming how she would be watering and pruning her daisies. She was prancing around the garden, oblivious of her sister's ire.

"And where am I supposed to plant my nightshade, wolfsbane, hemlock, larkspur, moonflower, poison ivy, henbane, hyacinth, mandrake, ragwort, lily of the valley –"

"My dear sister!" Ophelia exclaimed in shock. "Your plants are very vicious! They will choke my precious daisies if they will be too near!"

Morticia was aghast. She stared at Ophelia with wide eyes showing how she could not believe that her sister was denying her to touch any part of the garden, despite that she would also be living there with her.

But before Morticia could say anything, Mr. Frump put his hand on her shoulder as a sign of warning. He also gave her a slide shake of the head to stop her. At the same time, Elizabeth spoke from behind them, giving them a jump as they have forgotten she was with them.

"This garden is quite large, you can share it without compromising either of your plant preferences," she said. She stepped further in the garden and pointed at one side of the house. "This even extends to the right side of the house, just beside the willow tree."

Morticia followed Elizabeth to the garden and looked at the willow tree she was pointing at, which was the same tree she was admiring earlier. She glanced up at the balcony which the tree's branches were touching. Without another word, she stepped back inside the house, seeming to forget the garden argument she almost had with her sister. Ophelia, Mr. Frump, and Elizabeth just stared at her, saying nothing.

Just before the receiving area, almost blending to the wall separating the kitchen from the receiving room was a staircase leading to the second floor which Morticia did not notice earlier because of her fascination to the garden. Not bothering to be granted permission to go upstairs nor inviting anyone to come with her, Morticia climbed the stairs to explore the second floor.

Upon reaching the second floor landing, Morticia could not stop herself from letting out a gasp of admiration. The weak afternoon light was streaming in the hallway of the second floor through both of the floor-to-ceiling, but slightly narrow windows located at the both ends of the hallway. Their locations were very fortunate for Morticia because neither is located at the east, meaning neither would permit the nastily strong morning light in.

On the right of the upstairs landing was another receiving area, though slightly smaller than the one downstairs. And instead of cushioned armchairs, big, velvet-covered pillows were strewn around. Morticia just noticed then that the Oriental rug underneath the pillows was seamlessly attached to the brown, dust-encrusted wall-to-wall carpet that sprawled on the whole of upstairs.

Remembering the willow tree outside that intrigued her, Morticia opened the only door on her left, revealing a vast bedroom. Just as she stepped on the carpet-free, wooden floor of the room, Ophelia, Mr. Frump, and Elizabeth arrived from downstairs.

Morticia heard Ophelia murmur words of amazement from the opposite bedroom, but was too distracted from the simple beauty of the room she was in to see what pleased her sister.

Just like downstairs, the walls of the room were light granite gray with peeling maroon wallpaper. There was a wooden wardrobe behind the door and another door beside it, which she assumed as the bathroom for she did not bother to look behind it. On the right of the bedroom door was a double-sized bed with a writing desk in right next to it. And beyond the desk was a wooden framed door with translucent glass. This door led to the balcony where the willow tree from the garden below reaches out.

Morticia stepped outside and looked up, realizing that the afternoon sun was facing her. She smiled, glad that this glorious bedroom was facing west, away from the sun during its harsh hours.

"Oh, this is bigger than the other rooms," Ophelia said as she entered the room, making Morticia jump in surprise.

"Is it, really?" Morticia asked, regaining her composure.

"Yes," Ophelia answered. She opened the other door and confirmed Morticia's hunch of it being a bathroom. "The other two rooms have a single bed each, a smaller wardrobe, a slightly smaller writing desk, and a bathroom with just a toilet and a sink. There is a shower at the end of the hall but no tub. This room has one, though."

"I see…" was Morticia's only response with a slight sinking feeling. As much as she wanted this room, she would have to give it to Ophelia if she wants it, which of course she does. This is not because Ophelia is demanding to have the better share, but it is innate for Morticia to be generous, even to things she truly want.

"The balcony is facing west, though," Ophelia said before Morticia could open her mouth to offer her twin sister this room.

"I'm sorry?" Morticia asked, confused.

"My daisies need sunlight," Ophelia replied, pointing on the daisies planted on her head, by way of explanation.

"Oh. But this room is bigger."

"It doesn't matter. The other room has a magnificent view of the city, anyway. And though this room faces the campus, that big tree blocks it so, nevermind. And I can see how much you want this room."

Ophelia left with a swish of her blonde hair and her white skirt, leaving Morticia to savor her luck of owning the room she wants. After a few moments, though, she followed her sister and closed the bedroom door.

By the time she rejoined her sister in the upstairs receiving area, Ophelia was enthusiastically telling Mr. Frump how much she wants to stay in this place.

"… is just so wonderful. And this house is just a few minutes' walk away from the campus. Oh, please, Father? Here comes Morticia, you want to stay here, too, right?"

"Very much," Morticia agreed, smiling serenely.

"Well that settles it," Mr. Frump said, returning the smiles of his daughters. He looked at Elizabeth who was also smiling. "Shall we talk about the rental rate of this house while the girls get their things in the car?"

"Of course," Elizabeth replied. "Let me just call my son so he can help them unload their baggage."

She walked to the floor-to-ceiling window and opened it, letting a warm breeze enter. She put two fingers in her mouth and blew, letting out a shrill sound. As Morticia, Ophelia, and Mr. Frump look through the window, a tall and tanned young man emerged from a cottage not too far out and looked back at them.

"What, Mother?" he asked, shouting to be heard from his position.

"Help these ladies get their things!" Elizabeth shouted back. "They will be renting this house!"

"I'll meet them on the porch!" he replied before jogging towards the front of the house.

"Is that your son?" Ophelia asked in a rather breathy voice, just as Morticia asked incredulously, "Is that where you live?"

Elizabeth laughed at the girls' curiosity. "Yes to both of your questions. That is Christian and we live over there."

"You can further ask Elizabeth, Morticia and Ophelia," Mr. Frump said, handing Ophelia the car keys. "But you better go downstairs to meet Christian as your mother might freak out at the sight of him. Besides, you still need to get your things from the car."

"Yes, Father," Morticia replied, smiling teasingly at Ophelia. Together, they went downstairs. But the moment they were out of earshot of either their father or Elizabeth, Morticia poked Ophelia on the hip and continued smiling at her mischievously and said, "So…"

"So?" Ophelia asked trying in vain to sound innocent.

"Oh, no, Ophelia," Morticia said while she was unable to hide her amusement. "You cannot pull that faux innocence at me. I perfectly know why you asked Mrs. Parker whether that young man is her son."

"Really?" Ophelia asked, giving up her fake nonchalance but now trying to sound testy. She raised an eyebrow at her sister.

Morticia also raised an eyebrow but remained smiling at Ophelia. She leaned closer to her as they opened the main door and whispered, "Yes. Would you like me to test if what I have in mind is true? Christian is just outside this very door."

"You wouldn't dare, Morticia Anesthesia Frump!" Ophelia cried, slamming the heavy door closed. Her eyes were almost bulging out in panic, in which Morticia could not stop herself from chuckling after looking at. "Morticia, no! Please!"

"I was just teasing, Ophelia," she replied consolingly, though the smile still has not left her face.

"You better!" Ophelia said, slightly scowling. But after seeing how happy her twin sister was, she gave up and smiled in return. "I honestly do not know if I should be happy or not because you are smiling at my expense."

Choosing not to reply, Morticia just opened the door, coming face-to-face with Christian. Just as they noticed from upstairs, he was tall and tanned. But more than that, he has toned muscles visibly bulging from his tight-fitting black shirt. His chestnut hair was attractively untidy and perfectly framed his angular face. And his eyes was probably the most striking feature of his face, they were bright and friendly, and as green as the moss usually seen in ponds.

He immediately flashed them a crookedly handsome smile that reached his eyes, making him more attractive if that was even possible, the moment he saw Morticia and Ophelia. Morticia noticed that his smile faltered slightly but his cheeks flushed when his eyes fell on Ophelia. She did not have time to point this out to her sister because their mother was going berserk.

"Mother? What is wrong?" Ophelia asked coming towards Mrs. Frump.

"Who is that man?!" Mrs. Frump cried pointing an accusing finger at Christian. "I heard a shrill whistle followed by shouting and then he came from the bushes and went straight to the front door and the two of you came out! How am I supposed to know that he is not here to attack you and Morticia?"

Mrs. Frump stopped talking, realizing that she spoken concern for Morticia which surprised her, but probably not more than her daughter. The sudden concern towards her surprised Morticia that she became rather stony, for Mrs. Frump usually ignored her existence. Ophelia seemed to be thinking along the same lines because she flashed her sister a surprised look, which seemed to reflect the reaction on Morticia's face. An awkward silence enveloped them, which even Christian noticed. The silence was pressing against them in heavy pressure until Christian finally decided to introduce himself to Mrs. Frump.

"Ma'am, I am Christian Parker, the son of Elizabeth Parker. We are the caretaker of this house," he said extending out a hand. He gave her a slight reassuring smile which Mrs. Frump did not return. "I will not attack your daughters, I assure you that."

Christian's voice woke the three female Frumps from their shocked trances. Morticia unfroze herself but remained quiet as Ophelia unlocked the car to hide her mixed emotions. Mrs. Frump, however, adapted her usual curt attitude and raised an eyebrow as she eyed Christian's extended hand. She crossed her arms, obviously against shaking his hand. Instead, she spoke to Ophelia.

"What are you doing unloading your baggage from the car?" she asked, watching her daughter, with the assistance of Christian, taking out the suitcases she and Morticia packed earlier that day.

"Father already agreed that we take this house," Ophelia replied. She beckoned Morticia closer to help her take out a big box from the trunk of the car.

"Let me take that," Christian said after he put down Morticia's suitcase on the pavement in front of the house. He brushed Ophelia's shoulder on the way and the two of them blushed, which Morticia only saw.

"But I did not," Mrs. Frump said.

Ophelia shrugged. "Father is already transacting with Mrs. Parker."

Mrs. Frump huffed in reply. She silently watched Morticia, Ophelia, and Christian unload boxes from the car. Her eyes narrowed every time Christian comes near, visibly showing her hostility. Soon, they were joined by Mr. Frump, who was pocketing his wallet, and Elizabeth, who immediately helped unload the boxes they brought.

Mrs. Frump gave her husband a glare.

"What?" Mr. Frump asked.

"How could you let them take this house?" she hissed, still glaring at him.

"For goodness' sake, Esmeralda, drop it!" he said. "The girls like this house. We have been scouting for how many hours and this is the only house that they like not because you like it. Let them be. They are adults now, they can decide for themselves."

"Can they?" she retorted. "Morticia wanted to go to Salem. Was that an adult decision?"

"Morticia still wants to go to Salem. And yes, that is an adult decision because she knows what she wants!"

"After what happened to Esther?"

"She knows what happened –"

"Then she knows why she shouldn't –"

"No, because of that she knows why she _should_ –"

"Stop talking nonsense, Hector –!"

"You are the one talking nonsense, Esmeralda –!"

"I want what's best for my daughters!"

"But what you think is the best may not be what the best _is_ for them!"

"_Are you saying I do not know what is that best -!_"

"_All I am saying is that you do not know what they want!_"

"_Of course, I do!_"

"_Tell me, then!_"

"_Ophelia wants to explore the extent of her head's capability of growing plants!_"

"And Morticia?" Mr. Frump asked quietly.

Mrs. Frump did not reply, not because Morticia, Ophelia, Christian, and Elizabeth were already staring at her and Mr. Frump, having already unloaded the last box and their argument was not entirely hushed, but because she did not know what Morticia wants.

"You do not even know what Morticia wants?" Ophelia questioned quietly.

"She doesn't have a dream," Mrs. Frump defended. "All she does is defy me!"

"That 'she' you are talking about is here, and her name is Morticia, my sister. Should I add the fact that she is your daughter?"

"I know that!"

"But you do not know that she wants to be a witch because –"

"It does not matter, Ophelia," Morticia interrupted, speaking in an almost inaudible voice. Her eyes were on the ground, not looking at anyone or anything.

"But, Morticia…" Ophelia started but her sister shook her head.

"I think we should go inside and unpack out things," was all she said before turning around. She pulled out the handle of her suitcase, pulled it with her as she picked up a box, and walked towards the house.

Feeling that they were trespassing the family's privacy, Christian and Elizabeth followed Morticia, carrying boxes they could carry and entered the house without another word.

"Why does she want to become a witch?" Mrs. Frump quietly asked Ophelia, whose eyes were shining with tears.

"You should ask her, not me," she replied, wiping off the tears in her eyes. She turned around, dragged her suitcase with her, carried another unpicked box, and left her parents alone.

Mrs. Frump looked desperately at her husband, quietly demanding an answer for her question. But Mr. Frump just picked up a big box and followed her daughters inside the house, completely ignoring his wife.

* * *

"Darling?" Mr. Frump knocked on Morticia's bedroom door. She looked up from her unpacking on the floor, quietly recognizing her father's presence. Knowing this drill by heart, he entered the room and sat on her bed. He was quiet for a while, but spoke up to break the dismal silence. "You have a beautiful room."

"This is just bigger than Ophelia's," she replied quietly. She took several dresses out of her luggage and individually put them in hangers provided by Elizabeth, before hanging them in the wardrobe.

"Yes, but you have a magnificent tree outside your balcony," Mr. Frump said. "And I doubt that the sun shines here during the morning."

"True," Morticia agreed with a slight smile.

"That's better. You smiling, I mean," Mr. Frump said. He sighed sadly. "I am sorry about your mother, Morticia."

"I know that she does not know, Father."

"Yes, but hearing it must have an impact."

"I am shocked, mostly. But then I should have known better than to expect otherwise."

He stooped down and picked up the hangers, handing one to his daughter for each of her other dresses. "She'll realize that she is your role model though she showed qualities why should not be imitated… in time."

"I would not say role model, Father. That is rather harsh," Morticia countered. "But yes, I would like to be a witch because she is – was one."

"I hate to leave you like this, darling, but we have a long ride back home to enjoy. Well, the ride would be enjoyable, but I doubt your mother will be."

Morticia smiled again. "I will be fine, Father. Don't worry."

Mr. Frump stood up and kissed his daughter on the forehead. "I know you will be. Good bye, Morticia."

"Bye, Father."

* * *

After their parents have left, Morticia and Ophelia started unpacking the boxes that were not for their room in the downstairs receiving area. They were rather quiet, most probably due to their mother's ignorance about Morticia's dreams, but neither seemed to mind the silence. The Parkers left them to unpack, feeling quite uneasy with the scene they witnessed earlier, though Elizabeth assured that when the twins need their help, they are just a call away.

Picking up a framed photograph from the bottom of the box she was unpacking, Morticia stood up and placed the picture on the mantelpiece above the fireplace. She was followed by Ophelia who also put framed photos on the mantelpiece. They studied the photos they placed – the first was a picture of the two of them, so many years ago, sitting in front of their house, an arm around each other's shoulder; the second was yet another photo of the two of them together, though this time, it was only a few months ago. They were seated on the steps of their porch looking contrast yet complimentary with each other. Contrast because they were wearing opposite colors, Morticia in black while Ophelia in white, but complimentary because they seemed as close as they were on the first picture; the last photo was an old family portrait, taken when they were six-year old, about to start school. Their parents looked nothing like today.

"It is hard to imagine that there was a time when Mother and Father were not fighting," Ophelia commented, eyeing the last picture.

"It is hard to imagine that there was a time when Mother was not disgusted with me," Morticia replied, looking at the same picture.

Ophelia sighed. "I thought that –"

"Let's just not talk about that, Ophelia, please?" Morticia requested, returning to the remaining unpacked boxes.

"It's just that… earlier, when Christian came, I thought… but then…" Ophelia tried to say but even without completing her sentences, Morticia understood.

"It does not matter," she said, unpacking a small old grandfather clock from one of the boxes. She went back to the fireplace and hung the clock on the fireplace wall above the pictures, using a hook placed there earlier by Christian.

"How are you feeling?" Ophelia asked, putting volumes of books on the other shelves of the cabinet that housed the old television.

"Just the same," Morticia answered. She helped her sister put other books on the remaining shelves. "More certain than before."

"Certain about what?"

"That Mother… I do not really want to talk about her. Things will not change even when we keep on talking about her."

"But –"

"Please, Ophelia?"

"Morticia… oh, alright," Ophelia conceded upon seeing her sister's face.

Before either of them could speak, a knock came from the back door. Morticia stood up to see who it was, though she was sure that it was either Elizabeth or Christian. True enough, when she opened the door, it was Christian waiting outside.

"Hello, Christian," she said, smiling slightly.

"Hello…" he said uncertainly.

"Oh, of course! I did not get the chance to introduce myself. I am Morticia Frump," she held out a hand which he shook, smiling in return. "My sister is Ophelia. How can I help you?"

"My mother and I were wondering if you would like to have something for supper. The fridge is empty, except for water, and I was told that you travelled for several hours so I guessed that you might be hungry."

"I do not eat dinner, but Ophelia does. Why don't you and Mrs. Parker come over here and eat here. You would just have to bring the food here. I'm sure my sister would like to hear more about you… I mean more about the university from you."

Christian's eyes brightened at what Morticia said. "I will tell my mother. She's grown fond of you, actually. Surely she would not mind coming over here. See you later, then."

"See you," Morticia replied. She watched him disappear behind the bushes before returning to Ophelia, who was almost finished unpacking. She picked up the empty boxes and piled them on one side, unable to decide where to put them. "Mrs. Parker and Christian are bring supper over."

"They are?!" Ophelia asked, her voice raised at least two octaves higher.

Despite herself, Morticia could not stop herself from chuckling. "Yes, and you better not speak to them with that high-pitched voice."

* * *

For the next couple of days, Morticia and Ophelia were toured around the university by Christian during the day and cooked meals by Elizabeth during breakfast and dinner. Wanting to give Ophelia and Christian some time together, Morticia decided to learn how to cook with the help of Elizabeth. She now somehow found the mother she never had from Mrs. Frump in Elizabeth. Not only she learned how to cook but she also shared to Morticia some potion concoctions she used to do before.

At first Morticia thought that Elizabeth was a witch but she revealed that she wanted to be a witch and after enrolling to a local witchcraft school, she found out that she did not have the patience needed to become a witch. Hence, she quitted the witchcraft school but continued creating potions. She told Morticia that one night, several months after she found out that she was pregnant with Christian from a man she had a fling with but dumped her after learning that she is pregnant, she met a man who preferred to be called Alonzo. This man, seeing Elizabeth broke and hungry, gave her the job of taking care of his house. He would not usually come to visit but would just send her pay and if needed for the house, extra money for renovation. He was so generous that it was seem who send Christian to school.

From what she knew, this Alonzo was a wealthy man with a small family, with just two sons. But apparently, his eldest son disappeared years ago. Brokenhearted because of his son's loss, Alonzo died, leaving the responsibility of paying Elizabeth and sending Christian to school to his wife. Elizabeth only saw Alonzo's wife once, when she told her that Alonzo died. However, she did not bother to give Elizabeth her name, as she introduced herself as 'Alonzo's wife'. That time, she came with her remaining son, though Elizabeth did not see him for he remained inside a heavily-tinted old car the whole time his mother talked to her.

For the first time in her life, Morticia finally found a place where she felt at home, a place where no one would huff at the sight of her, a place where everyone appreciated her despite her peculiar tastes (though this is quite moot as the Parkers shared her food preferences and are influencing Ophelia), and a place where she can really enjoy being who she was.

**End of Chapter 3. I was truly planning on making Morticia and Gomez meet here already, but as I was writing, the argument thing between Mr. and Mrs. Frump came up so I decided to play with that idea. Though at the end of this chapter, I'm sure you found a link that will bring Morticia and Gomez together in the future. I promise, on Chapter 4, they will meet already. And on Chapter 4, Morticia will meet a friend.**

**I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter, though it took me three weeks to get this done. Hopefully Chapter 4 will be available next week. Thank you for those who commented on this fanfiction. I would still be waiting for your responses and suggestions. :D**


	4. Chapter 4: The Library of West Parker

On the last day of the summer holidays, just the night before school starts, Morticia decided to go to the university library just to escape Ophelia and Christian flirting with each other. Elizabeth told her that the university library was huge that houses even the rarest section anyone could imagine.

Morticia did not have a hard time finding the library as they passed it frequently during the times Christian toured them in the university. Besides, the words _West Parker University Library _were visibly engraved on the large stone sign just beside the library. The building was relatively new, having been relocated from a smaller building just the year ago. It was circular and made of marble with vast glass windows all over its walls. Though Morticia did not appreciate the number of windows, she did not have much of a choice and entered the building.

The concierge was located at the center of the library, which did not have any walls separating each section. There were shelves upon shelves of all sorts of books, sprawled outward from the heart of the library to the walls and windows. Just looking at them was enough to drive Morticia crazy. Good thing, the old lady receptionist spoke up, waking her out of her reverie.

"May I help you?" she asked.

"Oh, yes, please," Morticia replied, feeling a bit sheepish for looking like a fool and gazing around with her mouth open.

"You are new?" the receptionist kindly asked.

"Yes, is it too obvious?" she answered, making fun of her apparent innocence.

"Quite. You seemed impressed with the building, which gave you away," the receptionist replied, smiling. "I am Beverly Charles."

"Morticia Frump, Literature student,"

"Ah, then you might as well have your own library card," Beverly said, pulling out a registration sheet and a blank library card. "You would soon be residing in this library."

"Where do you suggest I start with?" Morticia replied, filling out the form and the card. Beverly noticed that she wrote elegantly, but was quite bothered when she used small pitchforks to replace the dots in her _i_'s and _j_'s.

"Miss Charles?" Morticia softly called, shaking Beverly up. "Is there something wrong?"

"Oh, no, no, no. Everything is fine," she replied distractedly, she obviously has not yet moved on with Morticia's peculiar writing style. "Usually, Literature professors start with folkloric narratives all over the world. So, I suggest that you give yourself a background about the different creatures in folklores." She pointed to the farthest shelf on her right. "You see that young lady in black? The shelf she just came from is that one that carries information about folkloric creatures. Come to think of it, she is usually there. If I remember correctly, she is also a Literature student."

Morticia smiled at her, handing her back the pen she used. "Thank you, Miss Charles."

"You're welcome, dear," Beverly replied, returning her smile, though quite wary this time. She put Morticia's registration form in a drawer labeled _Fa – Fy_ and handed her the library card. "You will only leave this to me when you will bring a book or several books out of the library. As of now, you hold on to this."

"Thank you," Morticia repeated, walking towards the shelf Beverly pointed at earlier. Surrounding the receptionist's desk were two rows of wooden writing desks. On her way, she passed a young man clad in a navy blue pinstripe suit sitting in front of one of the writing desks, his back hunched. His hair was disheveled, as if the man ran his hand through it several times already. Morticia saw that there were a small pile of books in front of the man and a pad of lined yellow paper in which the man was furiously writing on. Shaking his head, the man crumpled the paper he was writing on and threw it on the waste basket beside his table, which to Morticia's surprise was already half-filled. She could not see his face but she could sense that this man was quite frustrated and Morticia decided not to bother him.

Reaching the shelf she was directed to, Morticia noticed that the young lady Beverly was pointing at earlier, came back and was sitting cross-legged by the wall, reading a very thick and very old book. Her face was hidden behind the book and all Morticia could see was her gloved hand. Deciding not to disturb her, she ran her fingers on the spines of the books on the shelf, scanning the titles in turn.

"_World's Worst Monsters_… _Creatures of the Night_… _The Almanac of Folkloric Creatures_… _Unexplainable Beings: Myth or Reality_… _From Aswangs to Zombies: What People Most Fear_," Morticia murmured with deep interest. She took out the last book as its title fascinated her the most. She blew the thin layer of dust covering the book to reveal the black leather cover with its faded gold lettering. It was quite heavy, given its thickness but Morticia did not seem to mind.

Seeing that the young lady was still occupying the wall at the end of the shelf, Morticia brought the book back to the area with writing desks, and settled right next to the young man she saw earlier. Before she opened the thick book, she looked sideways to the man and saw that his waste basket is now overflowing and his frustration did not seem to lessen even by a smaller percentage. In fact, to Morticia, it seemed that he was even more frustrated. Reminding herself that the man's frustration is none of her business, she opened the book and lost herself in it.

She looked in the appendix to locate the foreign word she saw in the title and found out that it was the first item discussed in the book. She turned to page nine and saw a hand-drawn image of an _aswang_. The picture showed a man transforming into a great, black dog and a woman turning into a big wild boar with long tusks. Turning to the next page, Morticia read the description:

Aswang_ (read as äs-wäng) is a folkloric creature found only in the Philippines, an archipelago located in the Southeast Asia. It was said that _aswangs _originated from the country's provinces, Aklan and Capiz, though due to the Filipinos' migration to other parts of the country, _aswangs _are rumored to be seen all around the Philippines._

Aswangs _are not easily identifiable like other folkloric creatures as they look and act like humans during the day but transform during the night. Most _aswangs _assume the body of big, black dogs, but not easily confused as fox or wolf because they just look like domesticated dogs, only twice as big; or the body of a wild boar with tusks, also twice as large as normal wild boars. However, there are witnesses who claim that _aswangs _are just old women who hunt victims for their internal organs._

Aswangs _change shape the moment the sun disappears from the sky and returns to their human form when dawn breaks. These creatures usually live in secluded areas to avoid being hunted by humans. It was said that _aswangs_ survive by passing a certain _birtud _to their offspring. However, other historians claim that _aswangs _were born from their _aswang _parent/s._

_There are quite a number of creatures that may be confused as _aswangs_, not only for foreign academicians, but also to the Filipinos as well. Among these creatures are the _manananggals _(see page 356), _tiktiks _(see page 531), vampires (see page 592), and witches (see page 615). Also, _aswangs _do not have any foreign counterpart as its description overlaps other folkloric creatures._

Aswangs _are also among the most difficult creatures to place its history as there are so many claims of their origins. Among these is the despair of a woman named Maria after giving birth to a dead child, whom she and her husband were praying for a several years. Some, however, said that _aswangs _existed at the same time humans inhabited the earth._

"Wow," Morticia whispered after she finished reading. It did not occur to her that there were other folkloric creatures in other parts of the world. Of course she knew that vampires originated in Transylvania and that banshees are from Ireland, but she had never heard of _aswangs_ until now. Thinking back, Morticia remembered that in her elementary history, Philippines was mentioned since it was helped by the American government during the second World War. But more than that, she knew nothing about the exotic country.

Morticia went back to the appendix and looked the Philippines up. She saw that there are other folkloric creatures in the country other than the _aswangs, manananggals, tiktiks, _vampires, and witches mentioned in the first creature she read. There were duwendes, _engkantos, _kapres, malignos, _tikbalangs, undins, witawits, _and many others. Fascinated, Morticia continued reading about what the Filipinos called, _lamang lupa_ until Beverly had to tap her on the shoulder.

"Yes?" Morticia asked distractedly as she tried to pry her eyes away from the image of the _siyokoy_, a sea creature of the Philippines, though usually a man with greenish blue scales for skin, webbed hands and feet, and fin-like ears.

"It is already ten o'clock, Morticia," Beverly kindly said. She vaguely waved at the library. "It is an hour after the closing. I let you read because you seemed very engrossed with that book."

"Oh, it is indeed very interesting. And I am only reading about the creatures found in the Philippines," Morticia replied, smiling.

"Yes, the Philippines has fascinating legends," Beverly said, returning her smile. She seemed to have moved on from Morticia's peculiar handwriting earlier. "But like I've said, it is an hour beyond the closing of the library."

Morticia looked around, seeing that the library was indeed dimmer than it was earlier. There were only several lights on, in fact, only those near her were the ones open, as well as the one on the receptionist's table. She stood up quite suddenly. "Oh, I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Morticia," Beverly said. She pointed on _From Aswangs to Zombies: What People Most Fear_. "Would you like to borrow that book out?"

"May I?" Morticia asked excitedly.

"Of course," Beverly answered, smiling at Morticia's excitement. "Let me just have the book and your library card."

She handed her the book and her library card and followed her to the receptionist's desk. She patiently waited for her to finish copying the title of the book on the card and on her registration form, signed both, and returned the card to her. She put the book in a paper bag and handed it to her, as well. "You must return the book in three week's time."

"I might finish is even before that," Morticia replied. She jovially waved at Beverly as she left the library and went home.

* * *

*_meanwhile*_

Gomez had been sitting in the campus library of West Parker University for several hours but he could not get his mind to work properly. He had an assignment essay during the summer holidays which he did not bother doing because of his intent of finding Fester. And after the dismal encounter with the Amores, he did not have the heart of starting his work. And now that classes will start the next day, he was procrastinating to finish his supposedly ten-page essay.

Gomez did not pay attention to anyone who came and passed by him. He did not even greet Beverly when he came to the library. It actually surprised him that he ignored her, given that she has always been sweet to him and would often offer him academic help. But then again, he was too preoccupied by his overdue essay that he did not have the energy to stand up from his seat, go to Beverly's desk, greet her and apologize for being rude, and return to his table so that he could start his assignment.

As a matter of fact, what all Gomez wanted to do was to finish his damn essay so that he could retire to his solitary apartment and crash on his bed. He knew that sleeping would not be any better when he is awake since even in his dreams, what he did to Fester and the Amore twins haunt him. But then again, he knew that he had to finish his essay just for the sake of passing it the next day. It actually did not bother him that he might fail the assignment given that he only had several hours to finish a supposedly well-research essay. To be frank, Gomez did not care much about anything for so long - seven years to be exact, that he somehow grew numb of any emotions. It has been a long time since he was happy and excited. Even sadness could not penetrate him. Though he blamed himself for the Amore twins' condition and Fester's disappearance, hurt, anger to himself, and sadness had left him.

Having no choice, Gomez rose from his desk, went around the library, searching from shelf to shelf, collecting books he knew he would never bother reading and returned to his table. He took out a fresh pad of lined yellow paper and a pen, wrote on top of the paper his name in a sloppy, lazy manner: Gomez Alonzo Addams. Below that, he wrote the topic of his assignment for his Peace Education class: "How Should the Government Prevent Wars in the 21st Century?" Then he wrote below it the additional instruction given to them the previous term: "Provide law/s that will backup your suggestions. Explain."

Gomez truly wanted to write on his paper that personally, he would not bother stopping the war because he believed that wars help lessen the ever-growing population of the world. And to be honest, he could not see the purpose of having Peace Education in the first place. But then, of course, writing that on his paper would guarantee a zero. Though he would not have cared less about his grades, he could not just imagine his mother storming in his apartment, shouting at the top of her lungs, demanding him the reason of his failure. And so with a dejected sigh, Gomez took the book on top of the high pile titled, _Universal Declaration of Human Rights_. Even before he could start reading, he felt immediately disgusted with the title. Still. he tried reading. But then his thoughts would fly elsewhere, usually to the hollow part of his brain where he kept on blaming himself for Fester's disappearance.

Obviously, Gomez could not write anything 'appropriate' for submission tomorrow. His frustration grew as the sun slowly sank in the horizon. The waste paper bin beside him began to fill with crumpled papers bearing only his name, the title of the essay, the additional instructions, and a couple of words to start the essay. Well, that was until a young woman sat beside him.

Gomez was about to throw the twelfth book he tried reading when at the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a young woman flipping through a thick book. Her hair was as black as the feathers of a raven, and was neatly braided in two plaits that sat on both of her shoulders. She was wearing a purely black dress with long sleeves. Try as he might, Gomez could not see past the book she was reading for her head was barely an inch from it, clearly engrossed, though Gomez could clearly see her pale, slender hands with vivid red nails gripping the book.

Somehow, the sight of her flushed out all the frustration in Gomez. It was already seven in the evening, only two hours from the library's closing, but he felt a surge of hope. He felt that with the lady beside him, he could write his ten-page, well-researched essay. And so picking up the book he was about to throw earlier, he read through it, and writing to his paper simultaneously. He would steal glances to the girl next to him, wishing to see her face or dreading to see that she may have already left.

Finally, Gomez put the last period on his paper. He leafed through his work, surprised that in a small amount of time, he was able to write an eleven and half-page essay. He knew that he had outdone himself, knowing well that he wrote significant things and none of his last-minute made-up compositions. He took the watch from his breast pocket to look at the time.

"By jove!" he softly exclaimed. It was 8:50. He only wrote his assignment in less than two hours. Pocketing back his watch, he stole another look on the girl next to him. She was still engrossed with her reading, that she did not notice the time. Gomez was debating with himself if he would walk up to young woman and tell her that the library was about to close. But somehow, he chickened out every time he reached out a hand.

Instead, Gomez returned the books to their rightful place, surprising not only himself but also Beverly.

"What is with you, Gomez?" she whispered as he passed her desk on his way to a shelf.

"Huh?" he asked absently. He was walking with his head directed to the girl and not the direction he was walking to.

"What is with you?" Beverly repeated patiently, though her eyes were quite malicious. "You never return the books to the shelves. And you are walking with your head facing the other direction!"

"That... that girl," Gomez said, returning the last book. He went back to the desk he was previously occupying, took his things and returned to Beverly.

Beverly merely raised an amused eyebrow.

"I do not know, Beverly. But she... she mystifies me so much!" he said in a soft voice.

"What do you mean?" she asked curiously.

"I do not know," he repeated. "Earlier I was just so frustrated... and then she came... and then I felt as if I can do anything."

Beverly raised her eyebrow again. "Good thing she is here then. Because you are at least recognizing my mere existence."

"Oh, Beverly, I am sorry," Gomez said, sounding quite sorry though there was still the sound of amazement in his voice. "I was preoccupied with my ten-page Peace Education assignment to be submitted tomorrow."

Beverly made indications that she was about to interrupt and scold him for neglecting his studies.

"Don't worry, Beverly, I had it covered," he proudly showed her his 11-page composition. Then he added in a rather dreamy voice, "Because she is here."

"You like her?" Beverly asked.

"Perhaps?" Gomez replied uncertainly. "I just saw her now. I cannot say that I have met her, nor can I claim that I have seen her face because I have not. But then her presence is... arousing. Like waking from a rather dreadful nightmare. And believe me when I say that I am living in a real-life nightmare."

Of course, Beverly knew nothing about Fester's disappearance. All she knew was that Gomez is very upset for something and no matter how she coaxed him to tell him what happened, he would not let out a single word. She also knew that Gomez had been showing the 'happy' side of him, though she knew that it was only a front so no one would ask him what was wrong. Upon seeing a twinkle in his eyes for the first time, she knew that something about Morticia Frump brought the life out that no one has seen from Gomez.

"Morticia Frump," Beverly whispered, savoring the minimal happiness she saw in Gomez's eyes. It was the first time she saw him project an emotion and she could not stop herself from telling him more information that would make him happier.

"What?" Gomez asked distractedly, eyeing the young woman with a strange emotion, even to him.

"Her name is Morticia Frump," Beverly repeated. And just as she thought, the twinkle in Gomez's eyes brightened up. "She is a freshman Literature student."

"Beautiful name..." Gomez breathed.

Beverly raised again an eyebrow. Morticia was not a name she would qualify as beautiful. But then she remembered the pitchforks in Morticia's writing and realized that perhaps, the name suited her. Thinking harder, Beverly realized that Gomez was also not a normal young man.

"Freshman, you say?" Gomez asked, absentmindedly pulling out a cigar from the inside pocket of his suit jacket.

"Yes," Beverly replied, eyeing the cigar with great distaste. "How many times do I have to tell you, Gomez, that smoking is not allowed inside the library premises?"

"Oh, yes. Sorry," Gomez replied distractedly. He pulled his eyes away from the lady named Morticia to face Beverly. "Where does she live?"

"I'd rather not tell you," Beverly replied shortly. Obviously, though she considered Gomez as a grandson and would give anything to see him happy, especially now that she saw how much difference in his appearance happiness has made, the attempted smoking of Gomez quite insulted her. After all, she was still the head librarian.

"Aw, come along now, Beverly," Gomez pressed on.

"No. I believe that giving her residence is far too much, after all I already gave you her name and what she will be studying," she replied.

"I would rather not say this, but this is a special circumstance," he said. He swallowed hard as if what he was about to say was something he would dread. And it was, well, for him anyway. "Please?"

Beverly blinked at him. "You would rather not say please?" she asked incredulously.

"I was not raised to say that word," Gomez murmured heavily. "Beverly..."

"I told you, no. Besides, I have to close down already," she said.

Having an idea, Gomez strolled to where Morticia was sitting. But before he could reach her, Beverly took hold of his shoulder.

"She is too captivated with what she is reading, I will talk to her later."

"But -" Gomez started, to which Beverly interrupted, rather harshly.

"Go home," she said.

"But I want to meet her," he insisted.

"Ah. Well, knowing you, you could find some other ways of meeting her. Sadly, I have to close down."

"Beverly, you are unfair,"

"And you are whining like an errant teenager,"

Gomez scowled.

"Fine."

He turned on his heel and left the building. He was feeling rather cross at Beverly for making him go, but then he remembered Morticia. And somehow, despite himself, he managed to smile as he jovially walk towards his apartment, with a bounce on his every step.

**End of Chapter 4. While writing the remaining of this chapter, I decided to change the title because well, I think it will be too long to discuss Phoebe and the Phantom, especially after I started talking about Morticia seeing Gomez in the library and vice versa. Sorry though that Chapter 4 is a bit short, don't worry, I promise that Chapter 5 will be a bit lengthy but juicy :D The next chapter would be the one about Phoebe and the Phantom. **

**Thank you so much for your comments, I super appreciate it. Please continue suggesting and commenting! :D**


	5. Chapter 5: Phoebe and the Phantom

**NOTE: **CHAPTER 4 was changed to THE LIBRARY OF WEST PARKER

* * *

"Ophelia, how much longer will you be inside your room?" Morticia asked as she knocked Ophelia's door for the third time since they had breakfast.

It was the first day of school and Ophelia has locked herself up in her room for such a long time that Morticia already finished washing the dishes they used. Not to mention that she already bathe and changed into her first-day-of-school clothes, and yet her sister was still inside her room preparing.

"Just a little while, Morticia," she heard Ophelia said in a muffled voice, as if she was buried inside her dresser.

"How short is that 'little while'?" Morticia asked, trying to hide her exasperation. "I had been knocking at your door for the past hour. I managed to clean up the kitchen, took a bath, and change into my school things. Yet given that you started preparing before I did, you are still inside your room. In case you have not noticed, today is the first day of classes and we might be late if you do not hurry up."

"I'm done, I'm done," Ophelia said, slightly humoring her sister's exasperation. "Since when were you so interested of going to school, anyway?" She opened the door and revealed herself. Morticia could not stop herself from gasping in shock. "What?" Ophelia asked curiously.

Ophelia was wearing a light pink dress that ended just below her knees. The sleeves were puffed at the shoulders and had a ribbon tied at each arm cuff. As if the dress could not go any worse, Morticia noticed that the lower part of the dress was as puffed like ball gowns, with ribbons all over its hem line. Ophelia was also wearing ludicrous white, lace stockings underneath her pink patent leather Mary Janes that perfectly matched the dress.

"_What_ are you wearing?" Morticia asked pointing at Ophelia's clothes and eyeing it with disgust. She totally forgot that they were supposed to go to the campus. She even took no notice at Ophelia's comment about her having no interest of attending school just because of her sister's ridiculous choice of clothing.

"A dress," her sister replied indifferently.

"A _pink _dress? Since when did you stray from your usual white?" Morticia questioned, almost hysterically. "I might not agree to your style of clothing since I prefer black, but _pink_?"

"Well, I own several pink clothes now," Ophelia replied. She smiled serenely at her sister who was scowling at her.

"_Several_? _Why_?"

"Oh, Christian bought me this and the others."

"Oh, _Christian_. I see," Morticia replied with clear irritation in her voice. It is true that Christian is handsome and rather want-able, but then he was not her type. She thought that he and her sister quite look good together, but somehow, seeing them huddled together, whispering and giggling, tickling each other was too much for Morticia. And the mere fact that Christian bought her sister pink clothes was something she could not tolerate any longer. The mention of his name shook her up, remembering that they would be late if they dawdle. "Come along, we will be late."

Together, they climbed down the stairs in silence. But apparently, Ophelia had other ideas for conversation that further irritated Morticia.

"He's walking us to the campus, you know," she happily said, oblivious of her sister's annoyance. "I think that is very sweet of him, taking time to walk us. But then again, today is also his first day so it hardly matters. And given that we are from the same course, we are going to walk to the same direction. Of course, your first class is a bit out of the way but we'll walk you there before we go to the Agriculture building. Isn't that just wonderful, Morticia?"

"Wonderful," Morticia replied dryly.

Ophelia reached the front door first and opened it, coming face-to-face with Christian. He smiled broadly at her and she returned it.

"Hello, Ophelia," he greeted, kissing her on the cheek.

"Hello," she replied, though rather shyly.

"Thank you for wearing the dress I bought you," he said, taking a good look at her.

"Of course I am wearing it, you gave it to me, after all," she replied. She stepped outside, allowing Morticia to close and lock the door.

"Good morning, Morticia," Christian greeted staring at her clothes. As usual, she was in all-black. She was wearing a turtle neck, long sleeved, body-hugging top, a leather pants, and wedge closed shoes. And just like before, she braided her hair into two plaits that sat on her shoulders. "I see that you... er, dressed up for the first day of classes."

Morticia looked down at her clothes then back at Christian. She glanced at him icily. "Not more than Ophelia..." she said as she stared at his clothes, which were torn jeans and black sleeveless shirt underneath his brown faux leather jacket. He was wearing red high-cut Converse sneakers, with its laces untied. His hair was windswept, as if he just got off a motorcycle. "And certainly not more than you. Oh, and please do not bother walking me to my building, I can manage."

With that, she climbed down the porch and left Christian and Ophelia, looking quite shocked.

* * *

Morticia's irritation visibly lessened by the time she arrived at the Literature Building. Despite herself, she was feeling a bit excited of starting college. Of course, she would have been more excited if she came to Salem University. But since her mother insisted that she came to West Parker instead, she satisfied herself by just knowing that her father would send her to Salem or Transylvania University after she finished Literature here.

She barely had time to appreciate the Renaissance beauty of the building when she felt a prickling sensation at the back of her neck, as if someone was watching her. She slowly turned to look behind her but only saw a shadow of a man disappearing behind a tree not faraway from her. She wanted to go to the tree and investigate but then she remembered that she has a class few minutes from now. Abandoning the shadow and her curiosity, she went inside the building in front of her.

Thinking that she was already late, Morticia crept at the back entrance of the room. But upon entering, she noticed that there was no professor present. In fact, the whole class was in chaos. Here and there students were loudly talking to each other, obvious that they know each other. Some young men were playing some sort of music, which Morticia thought as some wild animals howling. There were a bunch of young women singing and dancing to the rhythm the music played, completely losing themselves.

What surprised her even more than the fact that they know the appalling music, was the way these young women dressed. They were rather scantily clothed, she observed. Most of them were wearing tops that show their belly buttons, underneath their faux animal fur jackets that seemed useless to Morticia since they were cut in the middle of their torso. Some were wearing ripped jean, not unlike the one Christian wore, while some were wearing shorts that barely covered their buttocks. And to be honest, Morticia thought she saw someone's buttock cheek peek out of the hem of her shorts.

Feeling appalled by the modern fashion, she could not even bear look at the young men who were dressed in oversized pants and shirts with matching ridiculous caps, she stared at the other parts of the room. Her eyes fell upon a huddle of students who were whispering and laughing amongst themselves. She tried listening to them, but with all the noise inside the room, she decided to sit on a vacant chair near them.

"... skin is disgusting!" Morticia heard one of the female students whispered. It was followed by a chorus of laughter that did not sound nice for her ears.

"Look at her clothing," added another female voice. "Who wears gloves nowadays?"

"Her gloves is one thing, but her absurd choice of black material is just laughable!" another female voice said.

"Ugh, her hair is worse! It looks like a haystack" a male voice, though by the sound of it, he was gay, said.

Morticia swiveled her head to their direction. She knew the feeling of being teased and could not bear the sight (or sound) of someone being bullied. She stood up behind them and spoke, "Will you just let her be?"

The group rounded at her. All of them were blonde, haughty, and looked rich. They were wearing signature clothes and they were eyeing Morticia like she was some sort of clown dressed in sparkling gown. Behind them, Morticia could see a young woman in black looking at the floor.

"And who are you supposed to be?" the young man said. He crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow at her, confirming her hunch that he was indeed gay.

"Someone who does not care of who you are," Morticia replied coolly, though her blood was boiling in anger.

"I see that you are just like this scum," the first young woman said. Her hair was long and bouncy, and she failed to show it as she tossed it over her shoulders.

"I do not really care about what you mean," she replied. "But I do care about that young lady you are bullying."

"Oh, I would not call her 'lady'," the second girl said. She flashed the girl next to her a malicious grin which the latter returned. It was only then that Morticia noticed that they were twins. Both of them wore the same clothes, though the former's was lilac and the latter's was the softest blue.

"I'd rather call her... banshee," her twin said. The young woman they were bullying flinched as she said that.

"Just leave her alone," Morticia repeated, her voice sounding dangerous. She stared at the quartet pointedly, challenging them to defy her. Perhaps something with the way she spoke, or her manner of speaking, or her clothing, or maybe the three of those rolled together stirred amongst the foursome. They glanced at Morticia uncertainly.

"Come on, guys," the blonde girl with long and bouncy hair murmured. The four of them went to the seats near the door and huddled together again, probably to gossip about Morticia's interference.

Morticia glanced at the young woman in front of her. She sat on the chair beside her and patiently waited.

"Thank you," the girl finally said. Her voice was rather raspy and quiet, as if she just yelled at the top of her lungs and lost her voice.

Morticia smiled at her and the girl lifted her head to return it. Her face was very attractive and her greenish skin somehow made her look even more beautiful. Her eyes were deep-set, which was further emphasized by the dark, heavy lines around them. She had high cheekbones and a pair of thin lips. Her hair, in contrast to what her attackers commented, were not dry and frizzy at all. It was rather soft and silky, and it fell down to the girls upper thighs. She was wearing a black, collarless smock that stopped a little above her knees, which were covered with similarly black tights. Her dress was short sleeved but she covered her arms and hands with black gloves. It amused Morticia that she wore the same shoes as she does.

"I am Morticia Frump," she said extending a hand.

"Phoebe," the girl replied, shaking her hand. "Phoebe Munster."

* * *

Morticia could not have asked for a better friend. As it turned out, Phoebe was the one she saw in the library the night before the classes started. Morticia learned that Phoebe lives with her grandmother inside the campus premises. It was not hard for either of them to be comfortable with each other. More than their similarity of having penchant for black clothing, they learned that they both like the same type of food and drinks, though they both do not each much, they had the same liking for things 'normal' people would refer as 'odd' or 'weird' or 'peculiar', and they both were not as human as possible.

This discovery happened during the third day of classes. Finally, their first period professor came. And to Morticia and Phoebe's delight, he was as odd as they were. The whole class paid no respect to Mr. Crisostomo Belch, an old, fat and balding man, but Morticia and Ophelia liked him very much. Just as Beverly told Morticia, Mr. Belch started discussing in the class about the different folkloric creatures.

"Folklores or legends are the basis of the local culture a person is exposed to," he said on the first day he came to class. He did not seem to care the most of his students were either sleeping or chatting with their neighbors. "The reason why many children are afraid of the dark is because their parents scared them that the abominable snowman would catch and eat them if they leave the house during a winter night. The reason why the children's parents scare them with that legend is because their parents' parents, meaning their grandparents, used the same story to scare their sons and daughters, or the children's parents. You see, the cycle goes on and on and the legend lives forever."

Phoebe raised her hand.

"Yes, Miss...?" Mr. Belch queried.

"Munster," Phoebe replied.

"Yes, yes, we are talking about monsters," Mr. Belch said, causing Phoebe's bullies to laugh hysterically. But Phoebe, learning from Morticia, paid them no attention.

"No, Sir, my name is Munster. Phoebe Munster," she corrected.

"No, Sir, I am a monster. I am Phoebe, the monster," one of the twins mockingly whispered that carried through the whole class. Even though who did not pay attention to Mr. Belch's lesson sniggered. Good thing, Mr. Belch chose to ignore them, just like what Morticia and Phoebe were doing.

"Well, what is your question, Miss Munster?" he asked.

"Don't legends have basis?" she asked. "I mean, they cannot be just a figment of one's imagination, can they? Where would the legend of leprechaun's gold at the end of the rainbow come from if no one has truly seen a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow?"

"Rainbows have no end, you know," the gay bully hissed. To his delight, the whole class sniggered at Phoebe once again.

"You do not have brains, you know," Morticia retorted softly. Before he could react, the whole class laughed wholeheartedly. Morticia smiled at him without any humor before returning to focus on Mr. Belch who was replying to Phoebe's question.

"Very good question, Miss Munster," he was saying. "You have a very excellent point. However, the difficult thing about legends is that no one has truly documented the tales. The mere stories told are not enough evidence, especially that they are not congruent to the norm. Many still believe that these folkloric creatures exist. In countries like the Philippines, many people believe in the existence of different creatures not because they are afraid, but because they respect the unknown. Have I answered your question, Miss Munster?"

"Perhaps," Phoebe replied, smiling slightly.

Morticia raised her hand.

"Miss...?" Mr. Belch asked, turning his attention to Morticia.

"Frump, Sir," Morticia replied. "Do _you _believe in that such creatures exist?"

"Oh, I do believe. The mere fact that you exist makes me believe," the girl with bouncy blonde hair replied, rousing again a chorus of laughter among the class.

"Likewise," Morticia and Phoebe replied in unison. They flashed the girl with a rather malicious smile, which made her cower in her seat.

"Yes, I do believe in them, Miss Frump," Mr. Belch replied as if no interruption happened. "I would lose nothing if I believe, would I?"

"I guess not," Morticia replied with a smile.

While Mr. Belch handed out copies of booklets containing famous folkloric creatures, Morticia, who was seated by the window, noticed a shadow of a man disappear once again behind the a tree. She knew that it was the same shadow she saw three day previously. And she also knew that the shadow belonged to a human being, and not a folkloric creature. However, before she could dwell on the mysterious shadow, or 'the Phantom' as she called it, she caught sight of Phoebe who was staring blankly to space.

"Phoebe, is everything alright?" she asked in a whisper, concern etched in her low voice.

Instead of answering, Phoebe stared at her intently, her almost black eyes boring into Morticia's blue ones.

"What?" Morticia asked. She reached out a hand to touch Phoebe's arm.

"Please do not be afraid of me, Morticia," Phoebe whispered. Morticia suddenly noticed that her voice was still raspy, although three days had already passed. Seeing her bothered face, she realized that the greenish tinge of her friend's skin was not a skin disease as she previously claimed. She looked down at the image on the booklet's page three, it was a screaming woman with floor-length hair and her skin was greenish-blue.

"Why should I be afraid of you?" she asked, an idea dawning over her. However, she pushed the thought away, as she was too concerned at her friend.

Phoebe beckoned Morticia closer, and she did. "Because... I'm a banshee."

Morticia glanced at Phoebe's scared face and smiled at her. "I know. Well, I just knew few seconds before you told me."

"And you're not afraid of me?"

"No."

"Why?"

"Because I am a witch."

* * *

**End of Chapter 5. Sorry, guys! I know I said that this chapter would be lengthy and juicy. But then, after writing the last line, I realized that it would be a good cliffhanger. I promise, Chapter 6 will be the juicy one. PROMISE! **


	6. Chapter 6: I Do Not Know His Name

Knowing each other better, Morticia and Phoebe were almost inseparable. Even Ophelia was starting to get jealous of the time Morticia spent with Phoebe.

"... barely home, Morticia!" Ophelia cried out early in the morning of the Saturday after their first week of school.

"Ophelia, do not be ridiculous," Morticia replied softly. She knew better than to fight with her sister this early in the morning, especially when the night before, she had an argument with Christian.

"I am not being ridiculous! I am stating the fact that you are barely home!" her sister cried out, clearly hysterical for reasons Morticia cannot fathom.

"I am just going to meet my friend and do our assignments together in the library," Morticia explained.

"But I never got the chance to talk to you. I do not even know how your first week went," Ophelia insisted.

Morticia sighed. "Ophelia, you are becoming like Mother. Remember the times she would pester you about your day in school? Well, you are doing that to me right now." She paused and looked at the frustrated face of her sister and felt a pang of pity. "Oh, alright then. I will just fetch Phoebe in the library and we will come here. We'll do our assignments here in the house. I suppose you should do yours as well."

"Thank you, Morticia!" Ophelia happily cried. She flung her arms around her sister and hugged her rather tightly. But then again, Morticia recalled, Ophelia had judo lessons before.

"Unhand me, Ophelia. I cannot breathe," Morticia gasped.

"Oh, don't talk nonsense!" Ophelia exclaimed. "The reason why you cannot breathe is because you insist on wearing that iron-lung of a corset!"

Scowling at her sister's remark, though quite relieved that finally she forgot being so much like her mother and a teenage brat combined, Morticia put down her bag and left the house, waving at her sister who was following her movements through the window.

While she was walking, she saw at the corner of her eye, a shadow in the trees. She hastily eyed the trees but saw nothing. Persistent to identify the shadow that was following her for the past week, Morticia went to the trees and inspected the area, and still saw nobody. She was about to give up searching when she heard a twig snap, followed by an almost inaudible gasp.

"Who is there?" she asked. Just as what she expected, no one replied. Narrowing her eyes suspiciously, Morticia decided to let whoever was following her to continue following her until he got the nerve to confront her. Not that she was proud or anything, but Morticia was not afraid, especially if the person following her was just a regular human. After all, she knew several spells that can inflict damage to attackers. She just hoped that she would not need to use them.

She barely reached the library when three young men accosted her. They did not do anything to her, but they made sure that she cannot pass through them. They were big and muscular, and looked quite brutal, but it did not faze Morticia. She eyed them patiently, waiting for them to move aside and let her pass. However, none of them seemed to want to.

"Let me pass," she coldly said after sometime.

"We'd rather not let you," the one in the middle said. He visibly flexed the muscles on his arms and chest to prove his point.

"Why shouldn't you?" she questioned, letting her boredom show in each word she enunciate. She crossed her arms in front of her and stared at the three men impassively.

"To be honest, we can actually let you pass," the young man on the right said.

"However, we want something in return," the one on the left said. "Ah, let me correct myself: we want something from you and we can let you pass in return."

"I do not have anything with me," Morticia replied.

"Oh, we believe you do," the one in the middle, obviously the leader, said. Again, he flexed his muscles, as if trying to impress her. But she merely raised an eyebrow.

"What is it then?" she asked. After a pause, she added, for she cannot stop herself. "You know, you cannot impress or frighten me by flexing your muscles. I know many things that can scare your wits out, making you forget all about your silly little bodies."

"Little bodies, you say?" the second man said. His eyes bulged angrily, but the leader of the trio put a restraining hand on his shoulder.

"I see that you are indeed cheeky," he said. "Natalie was right."

Morticia further raised an eyebrow.

"Natalie was the girl you and your monster of a friend insulted during class," he said, answering her unvoiced question.

"Oh, I see that she sent her body guards to return the favor, then," she replied, sneering slightly. "Pathetic."

"What did you say?" the third man said. Before any of his friends could stop him, he marched towards Morticia, raising a huge fist. But then, out of nowhere, or so it seemed to Morticia, a man wearing a pinstriped suit came. He took the assailant's fist and, despite his size which was a lot slighter than the former, judo flipped him over his shoulder. Morticia's attacker landed hard on his back on the pavement.

The other two muscular men froze as they were about to lunge forward the mysterious man who came to Morticia's rescue. Apparently, they thought that he was just some idiotic young man, trying to stop them from avenging Morticia's rudeness towards this girl named Natalie. After some contemplation, they decided to heave their almost unconscious companion from the ground and leave Morticia and the other man behind. They flashed them sharp glares as they left.

The other man flashed a smile to Morticia. "Are you alright?"

Not daring to look at the man's face, Morticia stalked off, leaving the man staring at her retreating figure with his mouth hanging open in shock.

"I am not a damsel in distress. I do not need your help," she said over her shoulder, feeling insulted for being rescued. Who the man thought he was, coming to her aid, she angrily thought. With the right spell, she could have simply sent away the man who was trying to attack her. But of course, some obtuse man, wanting to look like a hero interfered.

"Morticia, are you alright?" Phoebe said as she saw her friend approach with her face livid.

"A dim-witted young man thought I needed saving from some similarly unintelligent bulky assailants," she replied, still seething. "My sister, Ophelia wants to meet you. She was hoping we can stay in the house instead of here in the library."

"Alright," Phoebe replied. She eyed her warily, trying to gauge her emotions. "You were assaulted on your way here?"

"Yes," Morticia answered. They started walking back to the direction of Morticia and Ophelia's home. "By Natalie's cronies."

"Who is Natalie?" Phoebe asked, racking her brains if Morticia had already mentioned the name before. As hard as she tried, no bell rang.

"Your bully," Morticia replied shortly. She looked behind her as she felt her nape prickling once again. "Oh, I wish that person would stop doing that!"

"Uh… what?"

"Of course, I have not told you. But I think I am being followed."

"By whom?"

"I do not know, but I know someone is. I keep on seeing his shadow."

"Well, do not worry about him – or her at the moment,"

"Right, because my sister would surely give me more things to think about when we arrive at our home."

Daring not to challenge her friend when she is quite feisty, Phoebe decided to keep quiet on their uneventful journey to Morticia's place. They were all actually quiet when they started doing their work; even Ophelia felt the hostility reverberating through her sister and also dared not utter a single word.

Even Christian, who seemed to have made up with Ophelia in Morticia's absence, and was doing his own assignment with the other three, dared not flirt with Ophelia, seeing Morticia seething with anger. Frankly, everyone was relieved when they finally finished their work. Phoebe bid them a hasty goodbye and declined Morticia's offer of accompanying her home.

"It's okay, Morticia. I can manage," she said as she waved goodbye.

"I will go to my room now," Morticia said. She climbed the stairs to her room and locked herself up in her room.

"What's with her?" Christian asked Ophelia once her sister was out of earshot.

"Phoebe told me that Morticia was insulted after she was helped by a man," Ophelia replied. She started cleaning up the little mess they made earlier.

"And what is wrong with that?" Christian asked frowning. He took the trash from Ophelia and placed it in the trash bin.

"Well, Morticia likes to operate alone," she replied.

"Oh, I see," he commented, though clearly in his eyes, he could not understand at all.

* * *

When Monday came, Morticia's irritation waned a little. But upon seeing Natalie and her friends, she became livid again. Phoebe did not come to class either, which worried her on top of her anger. She was a bit distracted with the emotions she was feeling that she was not able to pay attention to any of her classes. Fortunately, their professors decided not to have the usual recitation and gave them readings instead, allowing Morticia's mind to wander aimlessly.

At sound of the final bell, her anger turned into frustration. She knew that she had been shutting her sister out the whole weekend and decided to let off steam by going to the other library, which was opportunely located at the other side of the campus. This gave Morticia a lot of time to assess her feelings.

By the time she reached the library, her mind was finally calm. She chose to ignore the man who helped her and forget all about Natalie, unless of course she and her friends started picking on Phoebe and her again.

She entered the library which was a lot smaller than the one near her house. Given its size, it took Morticia a short while to browse the shelves and found nothing that interested her. To be honest, after clearing her mind, she was not really into finding something to read. With a confused look from a middle aged librarian, Morticia left.

The moment she stepped outside, heavy rain poured. Morticia had not umbrella with her and it would feel quite foolish for her to return in the library, sopping wet but without any intentions of reading anything. Also, the heaviness of the rain seemed that it would last for several hours, so she started walking home.

"You wouldn't mind me offering to drive you home, would you?" a vaguely familiar voice of a man said from just behind Morticia. She turned around and tried to see the man talking to her.

"Have we met?" she asked eyeing the man's pinstriped suit.

"'I am not a damsel in distress. I do not need your help,'" the man said, repeating Morticia's anguished line from just two days ago. He smiled at her, "I guess that could count as a meeting."

"That was you…" she said softly. "I am sorry, I was just…"

"It's alright," the man said. He gestured to the pouring rain, "I would really rather have you ride with me."

"Why?" she asked.

"I cannot let you walk all the way home," he said to which she raised a curious eyebrow. Then he added quickly, "Not that I know where you live. But the rain is too heavy."

"I suppose so," Morticia replied. "And perhaps I owe you an apology."

"Never mind that," the man said dismissively. "My car is this way."

They walked, or jogged, rather for a short distance in a quite awkward silence. Morticia was unsure of what to say, and he also seemed unsure, though there was a visible bounce in his every step. They stopped in front of a relatively old Duisenberg. He opened the passenger seat for Morticia, smiling shyly at her.

She returned his smile and slid inside the car. He gently closed the car door and sprinted towards the driver's side. He entered the car, started the engine, and drove away. They were quiet for some time, but it was not as awkward as earlier, in fact Morticia felt inexplicably comfortable. The young man reached to the backseat and grabbed a woolly towel. He handed it to Morticia.

"Thank you," she said", accepting the towel. "And I am sorry for dowsing your car with rain water.

"It's alright," he replied, smiling at her again.

"How silly of me, you have not dried yourself," Morticia said, returning the now wet towel to him. She smiled at him sheepishly.

"I'm okay," he said, glancing at her briefly before turning his eyes back to the road. Morticia noted that he seemed to know where she lives, although she cannot remember telling him where. She had a vague feeling that she now knew who was shadowing her for the past few days. However, before she could say anything, he spoke up, "I was trying to catch cold, anyway. And I would rather not have you sick."

"Really?" Morticia asked. She peered at him inquiringly and thought that she saw his neck flushed.

"I mean…" his voice faltered. "Of course, you would not want to get sick, would you?"

"It might be quite fine," she replied. "As long as it would be more than the common cold. Pneumonia, perhaps?"

"I see your point," he said, impressed that she was share his, what other people would call 'peculiarity'.

"Might I ask you something?" she asked.

"Of course," he answered. "Anything."

"Were you tailing me?" she asked, not batting an eyelid, nor showing signs of hesitance.

"Could you forgive me?" he asked after a minute or two of silence. His voice was very remorseful. He slowed his driving and looked at Morticia straight in the eyes, his warm brown meeting her cold blues ones. Quite surprising Morticia, she felt herself feeling more comfortable with his presence. To be more specific, she enjoyed looking at his eyes.

"Perhaps," Morticia found herself saying. She found herself staring at his handsome features. She liked how his black hair was pomaded, though it was remotely out-of-fashion these days. His pencil mustache quivered in delight as he smiled at her response. The way he smiled at her brought at different emotion to Morticia, one that she has not felt before nor she can explain.

"I suppose you live alone?" the man casually asked.

From his tone, Morticia knew that he was just trying to start a conversation. But vaguely, she knew that he knows the answer to his own question. She verbalized this thought, "I believe you know that I live with my sister."

The man looked quite sheepish, but tried to regain himself by saying, "Well, I suppose one should not be outspoken about what he knows. Especially if it was discovered through stealth."

Morticia smirked. "Perhaps you noticed that I saw you lurking, haven't you?"

"I tried my best not to be identified," he admitted.

"You did quite well, actually. I only saw your shadow and nothing more."

"Lucky me, I should say."

Morticia did not respond. They rode quietly for a while.

"If you do not mind me asking –" Morticia spoke up, which he candidly interrupted.

"I would not mind. Fire away any question you have in mind," he said.

She smiled. "What else have you learned about me?"

He returned her smile with, if was even possible, a boyish grin. "Well, I suppose you do not know that you were –"

"– sitting right next to you in the library last week? I remembered," she interrupted, waving vaguely at Gomez's suit.

"I see that you remembered due to it being fashion outdated."

Morticia stared at him indignantly. "It is quite harsh for you to presume that. If I may say so, I think that it looks unique. Classy, to be specific. That was how I remembered you."

"I'm sorry," he said, slightly bowing his head. "And thank you. It is rare to meet someone who appreciates my choice of clothing."

"My sentiments, exactly," she replied, choosing to ignore his previous comment. Her tone however, was a bit crisp than she intended to. To hide it, she decided to change the subject. "How was your essay?"

"How did you know that I was working on an essay?" he incredulously asked.

"There were a pile of books in front of you. And the waste bin below your desk was full of crumpled papers. I only assumed that you were doing an essay."

"You are sharp!"

"I pay close attention to my surroundings," she replied and pressed on, "Well, what else do you know about me?"

"Beverly, the librarian, told me that you are a freshman Literature student," he replied with a sad tone in his voice.

This did not go unnoticed by Morticia, given that, as she said, she pays close attention to details. "You said the word 'freshman' rather sadly."

"I am in my last year of college, you see. I study Political Science."

"Interesting choice," she commented. "Do you have ambitions of becoming a politician?"

"My dreams are… out of sorts at the moment."

"I see… but then shouldn't you be delighted that you are finishing college at last?" she asked, looking at him intently, trying to gauge him. This caused him to have a bit of a hard time focusing on the road ahead of them. "After all, your last year in college only means that you will soon be free from the walls of education. You can do whatever you want! Well, of course, that is if you were not able to have such freedom before."

He chuckled though in a humorless manner which further intrigued Morticia. "I live a rather… complicated life, you see. My liberty was not the usual. All because of my doing, of course."

"Another commonality for the both of us," she said, realizing how they are alike in some ways. "Well, except for it being my fault."

"Oh, I see," he replied. He slowed the car into a stop and peered at her. He smiled. "We're here."

She was about to return his rather charming smile but his last statement shook her up. She looked out of the window and saw that the hard rain is no more than a drizzle now, and that they have indeed reached her house. She looked back at him.

"Did Miss Charles also divulge my address?" she teasingly asked.

"No," he shook his head with another boyish grin. "To be honest, she was most reluctant to give it me. But of course, I had other means of finding out."

He abruptly left the car, leaving Morticia to murmur to herself, "Of course."

He opened the door for her and offered a hand. She took it but quickly let go as they walked to the porch. She can indistinctly see Ophelia lurking behind the screen door but paid her no attention.

"I shall be seeing you around," he said with a minimal hint of sadness in his voice. Quite surprising, Morticia felt the same way.

"Good night,"

"Good night, Morticia," the man said, kissing her hand before leaving.

"And who was that supposed to be?" Ophelia suddenly asked, her eyebrow raised way high as she emerged from inside of the house, startling Morticia.

Morticia distractedly waved at the mysterious man as he pulled away from the front of the house with a belch of smoke and a beep of the horn. She caressed the hand he kissed absently.

"I… I do not know his name…"

**End of Chapter 6. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please help me with something, see the previous chapter to know more about my request. Thank you!**


	7. Chapter 7: Dinner with Morticia Frump

"But why in the world haven't you asked him his name?!" Phoebe blurted out after Morticia told her what happened the last night, with Ophelia finishing the story by saying that her dear sister forgot to get the phantom's name.

"Believe me, Phoebe, I asked her the same question," Ophelia said, looking quite irritated. "And her response was… unbelievably lame."

The three of them were at the main library. It was one of the rare times that their vacant periods coincide and they decided to meet in order for Morticia to tell Phoebe what happened the night before. They chose to meet in there as Morticia was finely acquainted with the librarian, Beverly Charles, and would not receive any admonishments if they decided to talk inside a silence-invoked zone.

"Well?" Phoebe pressed on.

"It did not occur to me to ask," Morticia replied softly as she continued reading the book titled _1001 Things You Do Not Know About the World's Myths_. "Might have slipped out of my mind."

Phoebe stared at her, completely appalled. "For a sharp girl…" her voice faded dismally. Ophelia gave Phoebe a look that plainly said, _I told you_.

However, before either of them could reply, Morticia let out a sort of dreamy sigh. Her eyes were glassy and they realized that though she was flipping through the book she was holding, she was not reading it at all. In fact, her attention did not seem to be with them.

"Oh, dear," Ophelia suddenly said alarmingly. There was a dawning realization evident in her eyes.

"What?" Phoebe asked.

"She likes him," Ophelia whispered. She turned to her sister and tried to get her attention. "Morticia. Morticia. Morticia!"

"Huh?" Morticia responded distractedly.

"You do like him!" Ophelia exclaimed.

"He was charming and rather good looking, I see no reason why he could not be likeable," she replied in a wistful, breathy voice that Ophelia only heard now.

"No, Morticia," Ophelia replied exasperatedly. "I meant that you like, or for a better word, you are attracted to him!"

"But haven't you said that he was the one who intervened when Natalie's cronies assaulted you?" Phoebe interjected before Morticia could even have the time to comprehend what her sister just said.

"Yes, good point, Phoebe. I forgot about that," Ophelia agreed.

They both stared at Morticia, who pensively glanced above their heads. Phoebe and Ophelia though that she was losing her head. That was until they saw her smile serenely past them.

"What…?" Phoebe began but stopped when she saw Ophelia following Morticia's gaze. She also turned around and saw perhaps the most handsome man either of them has ever seen, smiling gloriously at their direction. Phoebe smiles foolishly back until she realized that the man was not directing his smile nor his intent gaze at them. She and Ophelia faced Morticia and understood rather delayed who the overly handsome man was.

"Hello, Morticia," the man said upon reaching the table they were at. His voice was deep tainted with a Italian accent. His pencil mustache quivered as he smiled at Morticia with great affection. He lifted Morticia's hand, previously lying on the table, and brought it to his lips to kiss it.

"Hello," Morticia said. She turned as she heard Phoebe and Ophelia whimpered enviously. "Oh, this is Ophelia, my sister, and Phoebe, a friend of mine. Ophelia, Phoebe, this is…"

"Oh, how ungallant of me," the man said, realizing that he forgot to introduce himself to her the night before. He spoke directly at her, "Gomez Addams."

"… Gomez Addams," she finished but no longer looking at Phoebe and Ophelia. He smiled apologetically at Morticia, who shook her head dismissively.

"Would you care to join me for a walk?" Gomez asked.

"My pleasure," Morticia automatically answered, not giving much thought on the idea of going away with a stranger. But then, they were together in a small vehicle the night before, a walk could not be any more dangerous.

"_My_ pleasure," Gomez insisted with a smile. He turned to Phoebe and Ophelia, who were still gaping foolishly at him. "You would not mind if I take her away for a walk, would you? Rest assured that she will be back before your next period."

Ophelia remained staring blankly at him, but Phoebe managed to utter, "No."

Morticia started to gather her things on the table and Gomez helped her.

"Never mind that, Morticia," Phoebe hoarsely said. "I will bring that to our next class with me."

Morticia was not sure if Phoebe's suddenly hoarse voice was because of Gomez's presence or the fact that Phoebe was, after all, a banshee. But then, the moment she glanced at Gomez, her friend's voice flew out of her mind.

He held out his hand, which she tentatively took. Very much like a gentleman, Gomez pulled her chair as she stood and brought it back before they left, leaving Phoebe and Ophelia still astounded by Gomez.

Indistinctly, as they left the library, they heard Phoebe hissing as Ophelia, "Remember, Ophelia, you already had Christian."

* * *

"Morticia, before anything else," Gomez started the moment he and Morticia stepped out of the library. "I hope you could forgive me for being so ungentlemanly last night."

"What do you mean?" Morticia asked, frowning slightly as if trying to remember anything that Gomez did that could qualify as ungentlemanly.

"I forgot to introduce myself to you," he said by way of explanation. He looked at her with great remorse dancing in his eyes, just like they did when he apologized for shadowing her.

"Oh, that. It's alright," she replied. "Please do not be sad. I do not mind, after all."

Relief washed over Gomez. He smiled again with the boyish grin he gave her the night before. "Thank you for accompanying me."

"Thank you for inviting me," Morticia countered, returning his smile. "It is my pleasure, for some unknown reason."

"I must admit that I feel the same way," he replied. They were absently walking around the perimeter of the library, oblivious of anything except the person beside them.

"I suppose that there has to be a reason why you asked me to come with you," she said.

"I thought it was quite obvious," he casually replied.

Morticia stopped walking. "What was?"

Gomez also stopped walking and faced her, his eyes intent, even seemed hungry to look into hers. "That I want to be with you. I want to get to know you."

"You want to… but why?" she asked, not able to understand his intentions. She tried to gauge him, but sensed something different from what she expected that somehow scared her. She resumed walking, taking Gomez by surprise and followed her immediately.

"When I first saw you in the library, you ignited the dying fire within me," he said, knowing perfectly that he sounded quite senseless.

"I do not understand" she said frowning.

"Neither do I," Gomez replied. "I know what I said sounded ridiculous, even to me it sounded absurd. But I hope you would allow me to explain whatever this is. You see, when you saw me doing my essay, I was deeply frustrated. It was assigned to me during the last term, but then I was not able to do it because… well, I had other things to attend to during the summer."

Morticia's eyes narrowed at him. It felt to Gomez as if she knew that he was hiding something from her. But she did not press on, and he continued speaking.

"And last week, I was about to write rubbish for my essay after sitting in the library for more than three hours of doing and understanding nothing from the mountain of books I took. But then I saw you and I felt that given the short time of accomplishing my ten-page essay, I could do it according to my professor's standards.

"I was not able to see your face but your mere presence was like a siren call to my long asleep self. I suddenly realized that I had not been living these last years. And to be sleeping for a long time, that wakeup call felt immensely refreshing. Very much refreshing that I would not want to fall asleep with my nightmares again."

Morticia was silent for a while, unable to comment to what he said. "I… I am not an antidepressant drug, Gomez," she finally said, looking at him in a strange way.

"I know," Gomez replied. "And I know that it would be unfair for you to think that. After finally speaking to you last night, I realized that I want to be with you. Not because you make me feel alive, but because I have not met any person who is as interesting as you."

"Surely you are just humoring me," Morticia stiffly said. She raised an eyebrow as she threw her head back to look away from Gomez.

"No! I am not," Gomez insisted, alarmed that he might have accidentally hurt Morticia. "I mean nothing of that sort." He rushed to face her, pleading for understanding apparent in his eyes. "Last night, when you expressed your liking for my clothes, when I saw how _you _dressed, when you said that having pneumonia interested you, I knew that you are not like any other girl."

Morticia looked aghast. "Are you calling me odd?!"

"Yes, I am –"

"How dare you!"

"No! You misunderstood me again. Morticia, please listen to me!" he cried taking hold of Morticia's hand as she attempted to walk away from him. The moment their hands meet, some electric friction passed through them, making Gomez gasp and Morticia's eyes widen.

"Morticia, please," Gomez begged after a while. "There is nothing wrong with being odd. Because I am not as normal as anyone would think and want me to be…" his voice faded.

"I still don't…" Morticia began but he interrupted her.

"I guess I should have just admitted in the first place, to make things clearer from the beginning."

"Admitted what?"

"That I like you, Morticia. I really do."

* * *

His class ended two hours previously and he had been standing outside Morticia's room, waiting for her, since then. The final bell rang and his eyes scanned the number of people coming out of the door. He visibly straightened up upon seeing Morticia from his vantage point.

"Hello, Morticia," he greeted when he saw her, he added a quite hesitant smile. It seemed to him that she was not expecting him as she jumped at the sight of him. He turned to Phoebe, who was just beside Morticia. "Hello, Phoebe."

"Hello, Gomez," Morticia replied uncertainly.

Though blushing furiously (it was quite odd to see a light red patch appear on her greenish cheeks, Gomez noted), Phoebe leaned to Morticia's side and whispered not so quietly, "I'll leave you alone, Morticia. Let's just talk tomorrow."

Morticia opened her mouth to stop Ophelia but then she already hurried away. And that same moment, Natalie and her friends passed by Gomez and Morticia. Gomez noticed that they eyed them rather enviously, but choosing to imitate Morticia, he ignored them as well.

"I would like to ask you out, Morticia," he said, his eyes intent on Morticia's.

"What for?" she asked, meeting his eyes briefly but dropping the gaze immediately. Instead, she looked down at her shoes.

"That is rather rude of you, Morticia," Natalie commented, obviously eavesdropping on them. She turned to Gomez and gave him a smile worthy of a toothpaste commercial. "I know who you are. You are Gomez Addams. My friends," she gestured towards them, who also flashed him gleaming smiles and gave perky waves, "and I know all the eligible bachelors in the university."

"Then you and your friends know that I am not one of them," he replied dismissively, which brought scowls on Natalie and her friends' faces. Then he added with a longing glance at Morticia, "Not anymore."

Natalie gasped, understanding perfectly what Gomez meant. As fast as his actions surprised her, she composed herself, determined to have his attention. "Well, if you change your mind, I am Natalie Peterson. Here are –"

"I'm sorry, but I really am not interested," Gomez said, sounding not sorry at all. He turned to Morticia, who was still staring at her shoes. "Morticia?"

"Gomez, pardon me but… why exactly are you asking me out?" Morticia replied, seeming to speak more to her feet than to Gomez.

However, before Gomez could even open his mouth to respond, Natalie spoke up. "You know, Morticia, for someone who seemed to haven't been asked on a date and by some lucky coincidence is being asked out by the most handsome man in the university, you are very much –"

"I would very much appreciate if I get to speak with Morticia privately," Gomez blurted out, unable to contain his irritation to Natalie's interruptions and even merely her presence. He glared at her pointedly.

"Good bye then, Gomez," she finally said, looking abashed for being turned down. "I shall speak with you again soon." And together with her friends, they left them, alone in the corridor of the Literature Building.

"Highly improbable," he muttered under his breath. "Morticia…"

"Gomez," Morticia replied exasperatedly, she even rolled her eyes at him to emphasize her point.

"Morticia, will you please go out with me?" Gomez said, mirroring Morticia's exasperation. It brought a reluctant smile on her lips.

"Is it because you want no one to overhear whatever you are about to say?" she asked finally.

"Of course. You just saw her interrupting us all the time," he answered.

"Are you toying with me?" she asked accusingly.

"What?! No! Why should I?!" Gomez cried, feeling hurt and aghast inside. He knew that word quite well for doing that several years ago. But for the person he likes to allege that to him was like rubbing salt to a very deep wound.

Morticia looked taken aback by his anguished cry. Realizing that her response had nothing to do with his past, Gomez took a deep breath before replying. "Morticia, why do you lower yourself so much? You are a very beautiful young woman. And I still stand by what I said earlier, though you looked ashen and excused yourself to go to your class with fifteen minutes to spare even if you walked like a sloth from where we were. I. Like. You," Gomez said, emphasizing each word to make her believe. "This is not really how I imagined myself professing my love for you, Morticia –"

"Your what?" she asked, looking more surprised.

"My what?" he asked in alarm. Inside, he felt quite sheepish for letting something like that slip. "Look, Morticia, this is not the ideal place for me to discuss how I feel about you. The place is highly unromantic and not worthy of you."

She looked at him with a raised eyebrow, demanding a more decent answer.

"Morticia, I will not stop badgering you until you come with me," he said, looking and sounding as exasperated as she was.

"I do not have much choice, then?" she asked, smiling once again reluctantly, looking quite amused at his insistence.

"Not really," he replied, smiling back at her. He also felt good that, though she was hesitant to go with him to dinner, at least she was smiling because of him. "Well, of course, I would rather if you go out with me willingly, than if I have to carry you over my shoulder while you throw a nasty tantrum, screaming and kicking all the way through dinner. Again, that would be highly unromantic."

Morticia sighed, resigned at his insistence. "Very well, then. I will, as you said, willingly go to dinner with you, Gomez." She started to go down the stairs when she rounded to face him, her braids flying behind her. "And you better explain all this nonsense that you are babbling about."

Gomez caught up with her. "Oh, believe me, Morticia, there is nothing about my feelings towards you that is nonsense."

* * *

"It is quite hard to find the perfect place, since most restaurants in and around the university offer burgers and pasta," Gomez said as they drove near the rear part of West Parker University. Then he added after seeing a glimpse of Morticia's revolted reaction, "There is one though that serves other much edible food."

"By edible you mean…?" she warily replied.

"What other people call as exotic food," he said trying to soothe her. "Rattle snake meat with chopped liver of monkey, for example."

Morticia let out a relieved breath. "Sounds delicious."

"You do not find that disgusting?" Gomez asked, surprised at her reaction.

"Well, as you said earlier, I am odd, aren't I?"

"So am I, Morticia, remember that."

"That makes us two,"

"That makes us two," he repeated with a content smile. Soon, Gomez slowed down the car as they turned around the corner. He parked the car just in front of the restaurant. Gomez left the car and opened the door for Morticia, holding out an assisting hand which she gratefully took. Not letting go of her hand, they entered the restaurant.

"Good evening, Mr. Addams. It has been a long time!" the waiter greeted, holding out the door for them. He turned to Morticia and greeted her as well. "Good evening to you, too, Ma'am."

"Good evening, Miguel," Gomez replied, returning the waiter's smile. "This is Morticia Frump."

"Good evening," Morticia responded, also with a rather indulgent smile that Gomez did not appreciate to be directed to Miguel.

"Can we have a private table?" he asked, more brusquely than he intended. Morticia seemed to notice but made no further inquiry more than a curious look at him.

"Allow me to assist you to your seats, Mr. Addams," Miguel answered, oblivious of the sudden change in Gomez's tone. He turned to his heel and led them to a private table at the corner of the restaurant. He was about to pull out the chair for Morticia but Gomez beat him to that. When they were already seated, he gave them the menu and left with a longing look at Morticia. They both looked into the menu.

"Yak steak is their specialty here," Gomez finally said, unable to contain the silence and his ire towards the waiter. His voice was relatively kinder now. "But I prefer their ox and henbane stew."

"I'd rather not have something heavy," Morticia replied softly as she pored over the menu, searching for something unknown to him. He looked up inquiringly at her.

"Don't you like it here?" he asked, not wanting to have a date with her somewhere she did not desire. "We can go somewhere else. There is a steak house nearby that serves rare monkey meat, or to the –"

"Oh, you misunderstood me, Gomez. I really do not eat heavily. Most of the time I just drink tea during meals."

"I see. Well, I believe that they have good tea here, although I have not tasted it before."

"I'll have one then," she said, closing the menu and putting it down the table.

"Shall I call back the waiter?" he asked, also putting down the menu on the table.

"As long as you already decided what you will order. And please do not eat less at my expense," she added, looking at him strangely.

"I do not mind," Gomez truthfully replied. He usually eats big meals but he thought that maybe it would be tad ungentlemanly if he eats a big batch of whale spare ribs while Morticia sips a cup of tea.

"I would rather have you eat to your heart's content," she insisted. "It might be interesting. Besides, I do not think tea suits you, Gomez."

"If you insist so…" he slowly said, opening the menu once again.

"I do," she replied with a knowing smile, which Gomez realized to be the irony of him having no choice which he imposed it on her earlier. He returned her smile and called Miguel.

Quite instantly, Miguel came and stood right next to Morticia, to Gomez's irritation. Most of the time, Gomez treats Miguel like a friend. However, he chose now, of all times, to become his rival by giving Morticia sly glances and brushes on the shoulder. The only consolation that appeased the monster inside Gomez was that she was completely ignoring Miguel's actions.

"I will have fried iguana brains with jellyfish and electric eel soup," he said, glaring at Miguel, who did not seem to care. "And red wine for the both of us, if you would agree of course, Morticia."

"Please," Morticia agreed, giving Gomez a smile, which reassured him that she was not interested with Miguel. Then she continued, "And I will have lily of the valley salad with chopped rooster talons, also a cup of henbane tea."

"Anything else?" Miguel asked. It seemed to Gomez that he was prolonging his stay to get a longer time to stare at Morticia.

"Nothing," Gomez snapped, which made Miguel back-off and leave at once. He noticed Morticia peered at him curiously, though did not elaborate.

Instead, she commented about the restaurant, "For such a splendid diner, they have few customers."

"They are not well advertised," Gomez replied, as he tried to calm himself down. Fortunately, the mere vision of Morticia in front of him was enough tranquilizer for him. "Besides, many people are disgusted with the food they serve here."

"You know, I accept that most people find me, what was their word?" Morticia wondered briefly to recall what people tease her. Gomez stared at her as she remembered, her brows knitted slightly together while she bit on her thumb nail, thinking how beautiful she was when she is lost into thinking. He was only brought back to present when her voice rang out as she finally recalled the lost word.

"Ah, weird. Yes, that is their term, how they came up with such ridiculous word, I do not know nor would I bother to know. Anyway, most people find me weird but I cannot truly comprehend how they could be disgusted with my choice of food when they would prefer eating big amounts of grease in the cow they choose to slaughter to become their burgers."

"I could not agree more," he replied, banishing his thoughts about Morticia's beauty. "Not only have they picked on the food we like to eat but with our clothing as well. Have you seen the fashion trend these days? Women are barely covered with those ridiculous scrap pieces of cloth they call clothes, while men look like they are wearing curtains with their oversized pants and shirts."

"Very true. Some look quite presentable, say for example, Natalie and her friends –"

"Who?"

"Natalie. The girl who was all over you earlier."

"Do you really have to put it that way?"

"Put what in what way?"

"Describing her as 'the girl who was all over' me."

"But she was," Morticia countered but looking amused at his reaction. "Why, are you not used to women fawning over you?"

"No," Gomez replied shortly, wishing to discontinue the discussion about women 'fawning' over him, though his neck was becoming more crimson by the second. He chose to change the subject. "Was that her name? I do not remember."

He noticed her narrowing her eyes slightly, trying to understand his sudden choice to change subject. Perhaps realizing that it was another touchy topic, she replied, smiling more amusedly at him, "Gomez! She introduced herself to you, have you forgotten?"

"I was too preoccupied with convincing you to come with me, Morticia. And no man in his right mind would not be distracted with your presence."

Her smile changed into a shy one, which Gomez felt was especially for him. "Anyway, going back to clothes, Natalie looks quite presentable. Except for her choice of color."

"What was she wearing exactly?"

Morticia rolled her eyes on him. But before she could describe to him what Natalie was wearing, Miguel arrived with a tray laden with their order. He seemed to have gotten the silent threat Gomez was emanating that he did not dawdle. In fact, he placed the food upon their table rather hastily and left without further ado. The discussion about clothes seeped out as they ate in silence.

"Morticia…" Gomez quietly said as he spooned the eel's head from his soup.

"Yes?" Morticia replied, looking up from her salad.

"The reason why I asked you out was because I would like to express my feelings for you," he said, abandoning his half-eaten soup to focus solely at Morticia. Instead of copying what he did, she picked up her fork and continued eating, commenting nothing.

"You already did, earlier today," she finally said, not looking at him.

"I know. But you left without a response."

At last, she put down her fork and looked up at him, with what Gomez thought to be an exasperated expression. "Gomez, what exactly did you expect me to respond?"

"I don't know… perhaps an indulgent reply allowing me to court you," he replied, trying to push his luck, though he knew that for sure Morticia would not let him. Still, a little ray of hope was keeping him from being completely depressed.

"Court me?" she asked in surprise. It looked that of all the possible answer from Gomez, courting her was not what she had in mind. Gomez frowned slightly, trying to understand her skepticism.

"Yes. I told you, Morticia, I like you," he answered, still frowning to understand. "The mere fact that I would have to say good bye to you tonight tears me apart."

"I think you are exaggerating, Gomez," she scoffed. Gomez thought that even when she was a bit irritated, she was still very beautiful. "We barely know each other, how could you feel such thing?"

"Love does not require an explanation, Morticia, you know that,"

She stiffened visibly when he said the word 'love', the reason why was quite a mystery for him.

"Perhaps I don't," she quietly said.

"You will know then," he insisted.

"Gomez, you are being ridiculous," she replied, exasperation once again apparent in her voice. Quite surprisingly, to be called ridiculous felt welcoming to Gomez, especially that it came from Morticia. Then she added, shaking him again from his daydreaming, "One thing is that, just like what I have said, we barely know each other –"

"Allowing me to court you would also allow me to get to know you. And of course, you would get to know me as well," he interrupted.

"There are things about me that you would rather not know –" she continued as if he did not cut in.

"Everybody have skeletons in their closets."

"– And you are in your last year of college. Surely you would want to focus on that than being in a ridiculous relationship with a similarly ridiculous eighteen-year old."

Gomez sighed in resignation. "Morticia, like I've told you earlier, you brought direction to my life last week. Even my professors saw great improvement in my performance. They were all curious and would want to extend their gratitude to whoever knocked some sense in me. And that wonderful person is sitting in front of me. Again, Morticia, I see no reason why you belittle yourself. You are a magnificent and beautiful woman. There is no reason why you should see yourself as insignificant."

"How could you say that?" she asked in a meek voice. "You met me seven days ago and you followed me for the past week, but surely, no information about me came to you."

"I wouldn't say that, if I were you."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, let me just say that I have a certain charm that allows me to delve deeper than just knowing your class schedule and home address," he replied with a charming smile and a matching wink.

"You talked to my professors?" Morticia asked incredulously. Her eyes grew in shock. She clapped a well-manicured hand over her mouth to prevent her from gazing at him open-mouthed.

"Some of them."

"Gomez, you are one big stalker!" she almost cried. "I believe that you should go to the guidance counselor and have yourself checked. Your stalking tendencies have no boundaries!"

"Of course they have!" Gomez replied indignantly. "For one thing, I cannot know more than your school record here. That means I cannot access your high school files."

"I suppose I should be pleased that you have not phoned my father and asked him what kind of daughter I am," she said dryly, though Gomez thought he could see amusement behind her antagonized eyes.

"I would not dare call your father. Especially not before meeting him personally first," he said, bringing back the conversation towards his request of courting her instead of his stalking tendencies. Then he added, "It might bring the wrong impression."

"I actually have no choice, do I?" she asked. She looked down at her plate and realized that she still has some salad left. She picked up her fork and started pushing her food around. Even Gomez looked down at his plate and picked up the fried brains and ate it. It was not as crunchy as before, but was at least not leathery.

"You can choose to ignore me," he suggested after a while. "But then again, I could always stalk you. Of course, I would prefer if you agree, rather than if you go to the police and request for a restraining order."

"That idea seems fine," she said, still pushing her salad around her plate as if she was playing some sort of food hockey.

"The idea of allowing me to court you?" he asked, feeling very much hopeful, his eyes bright with anticipation.

"No, the idea of filing a restraining order."

"You wouldn't!"

Instead of replying, Morticia burst out laughing, which seemed to surprise her more than Gomez, whose mustache was twitching in delight. She immediately placed a hand over her mouth and looked at him in a mixture of embarrassment and guilt, her eyes wide in shock.

"That sounds wonderful," Gomez said, smiling encouragingly at her.

"Did it?" she questioned, apparent to Gomez, his response was as surprising for her as her sudden laugh.

"Yes, hasn't anyone told you?"

Morticia shook her head gracefully. "No. I rarely laugh, you see. In fact, smiling comes as rare. You surely make me do both more often."

Gomez's smile widened in pleasure, his eye twinkled, much like the stars peeking out of the clouds that night. "Well, I am honored to have brought you signs of happiness."

Mortician returned his smile as an embarrassed silence enveloped them. She slowly withdrew her hand from her lips and placed them on her lap. It was only then that they became conscious that they still had food on their plates. In an unspoken unison, they picked up they forks but merely played with their food, ostensibly bashful to speak with each other.

After several moments, of attempting to eat their food but vaguely aware that they were not significantly hungry anymore, Gomez put down his fork and called Miguel to pay the bill. When he arrived and presented the bill, Morticia opened her purse but Gomez stopped her.

"Oh, no, Morticia," he said, shaking his head vigorously. "You do not get to pay."

"Why?" Morticia asked. She looked at him inquiringly, though her hands did not leave her already opened purse.

"Because men pay for dates."

"Oh, Gomez, do not be old-fashioned."

He stared at her in a genuine-looking sadness. "But I thought you like the way I dress."

Morticia suddenly let go of her purse in alarm. She looked at Gomez with her eyes wide, quite pleading, it seemed to him. "That is not what I meant."

Achieving his purpose of distracting her, Gomez reached for the bill and paid for their dinner. She gasped accusingly.

"That was a ploy! You used your charm against me!"

Instead of replying, he just winked at her and flashed her the most dazzling smile he could manage. To his delight, she returned his smile with a special smile, though she tried to look reluctant.

* * *

**END OF CHAPTER 7. I HOPE YOU ENJOYED IT! I ALREADY THOUGHT OF OPHELIA'S SECRET, I FIND IT FUNNY SO I HOPE YOU WILL, AS WELL, SO WATCH OUT FOR CHAPTER 9. CHAPTER 8 WILL BE PURELY GOMEZ'S POV. I HOPE IT WILL BE ROMANTIC AS I THINK IT IS. THANK YOU GUYS FOR THE SUPPORT! PLEASE CONTINUE R &amp; R! :)**


	8. Chapter 8: A Sleepless Night

**I added a small something at the end of this chapter, which was based from the episode Green Eyed Gomez of The Addams Family TV series of the 60s (and was reprised in the 90s series). I think it added flare in Gomez's disposition. Enjoy!**

* * *

Gomez bid Morticia goodnight at her porch. He took her hand and planted a chaste kiss on her hand before leaving. As he walked towards his car, Gomez could not stop himself from bouncing in every step – he was just too happy. Morticia did not agree to let him court her, but she did not say no, either. The thought of not being rejected was enough to fill Gomez with inexplicable euphoria.

He entered his car and turned to look again at Morticia, who was still standing on the porch, waiting for him to drive away. He gave her a cheery wave, which she returned with her special smile, before driving away.

While driving, Gomez was thinking of how he and Morticia spent the night, sitting on the rooftop of the Architectural Building, merely talking about things that interested them, about things that irritates or horrors them, and the things they could not understand about other people.

_"__When I was seven, I was bullied by my classmates," Morticia was saying. "During the school Halloween party, they locked me inside a broom closet. I actually felt cozy in there, I was even ready to smile at them when I get out because they thought the dark broom closet would scare me. I wish they just left the broom closet unlit."_

_ "__What happened?" Gomez asked._

_ "__They switched on the lights from the outside. And instead of old brooms, dusty rags, and sodden mops, I was surrounded by an assortment of horrific things that could lose anybody's mind."_

_ "__Kittens?" he suggested._

_ "__Oh, I could tolerate kittens. At home I have a pet lion named Kitty," Morticia said. Her voice became not more than a whisper. "No, it was far worse than that. Malibu Barbies, Raggedy Anne dolls, My Little Ponies, unicorn stuffed toys… and the worst of all, large collection of Cabbage Patch Dolls, in pink and lavender dresses."_

Gomez smiled to himself as he remembered how Morticia shuddered and allowed him to put an arm around her. Of course, thinking back, Morticia was probably too occupied with the thought that greatly haunted her to notice that he was somehow making the most out of her fear. He frowned, scolding himself inwardly for taking advantage of Morticia's weakness.

_ "__What happened then?" he asked, mirroring Morticia's hushed voice._

_ "__I could not shout, because I was too scared. I just cried for the rest of the night until midnight came, when someone came and unlocked the door," Morticia hugged herself and Gomez tightened his hold on her. "It was the old school janitor of the school. He was surprised to see me huddled in the broom cupboard, surrounded by what he thought as innocent toys. He thought I was crying because I was locked, not because of the toys._

_ "__He brought me home to my anxious parents. Funny how then my mother worries about me and my welfare," she said, her voice switching from fearful to scoffing, which surprised Gomez._

Come to think of it, until now, Gomez wondered how come Morticia spoke of her mother in that manner. But then again, he was keeping something about his family towards her, that he decided not to speak out his thoughts about the matter. Not unless she speaks about it willingly.

_ "__I became close to him since then. His name was Jack. I like his name, it reminds me of Halloween pumpkins," she smiled at the thought. "I told people off for making his job more tedious, and he warded off my bullied. He died on the day of my elementary graduation._

_"__Just after he congratulated me, he crossed the street and he was hit by a dump truck. We learned that his family left him. And so we arranged his funeral."_

Gomez also shared his past, though he made sure that he would not let slip about his relationship with his lost brother. He smiled, remembering Morticia's shocked and worried face when he told her how he was forced to eat rainbow cake after losing a bet.

_"__Surely you did not have to eat the whole cake, perhaps only a slice?" she asked, her eyes wide in surprise._

_Gomez shook his head. "No, the whole cake."_

_Morticia put a hand over her mouth to stifle her gasp. "How did you manage that?"_

_"__It was hard, to be honest," he answered, visibly shuddering on the memory. He remembered how colorful the cake was. And the taste… He pulled out a cigar from his breast pocket and absently puffed on it satisfyingly, erasing the memory of the sugar from years ago. "The sweetness was too much; I would rather not know how much sugar was used to make that cake. And as if sugar rush wasn't enough, the bright rainbow coloring of the cake was almost…"_

_"__Oh, Gomez, please stop!" Morticia whispered pleadingly. She inched closer to him in fear. "I cannot bear to hear more about that horrendous cake. It sounded disgusting."_

_"__It looked and tasted disgusting," he claimed, smiling slightly at Morticia's closeness._

_"__But were you not sick afterwards?" she probed curiously, despite her disgust and fear._

_"__Three days of upset stomach. I will spare you the gory details."_

_"__It is hard to believe the ideas people unlike us come up with, isn't it?"_

_"__Appalling," he agreed._

_"Have you heard about the Power Rangers?" she asked warily.  
_

_"__I think I've heard about them, but I cannot remember specifically. Please enlighten me," he asked. But upon looking at her face, he added with a laugh, "Or not?"_

_She laughed as well. "They are five people clad in alien-like costumes of different colors per person, red, black, blue, yellow, and pink, I think."_

_"__And what do they do?" he asked warily._

_"__Save the world from monsters. They kill them actually."_

_"__Seriously?" Gomez asked incredulously. "That's very horrible! Why would anyone bother killing monsters? They are very dear creatures gone extinct because of senseless killings."_

As the night wore on, they talked more about serious things, things that do not include the other people's judgment about them or other people's peculiarities. Morticia tried to ask about Gomez's personal life but he could not let her know about how he used to be and how his jealousy and stupidity drove his brother away, and ultimately caused his father's death.

_"__Are you an only child?" she asked._

_"__By jove! Look at the time!" he suddenly exclaimed, jumping to his feet with unnecessary energy. "Come, Morticia, I will drive you home."_

_"__Did I say something to upset you?" she asked, frowning a bit._

_"__No!" he almost cried. He saw how Morticia looked taken aback by his outburst and he tried to placate her surprised reaction. "I mean, no, you did nothing to upset me."_

_"__Then you are not avoiding my question,"_

_"__What question?"_

_"__Whether you have any brother or –"_

_"__It really is getting late, Morticia. You have an early class tomorrow." He held out a hand to Morticia. He tried to smile at her but felt that his smile looked more like a grimace._

_Looking as if she had no choice, she took his proffered hand. He helped her stand up, and with an awkward silence, they went back to the car._

Gomez frowned at that memory. He knew that it was wrong to shut Morticia off like that, especially that he wants to court her. But then again, he was scared about what her reaction will be once she knew.

_"__Gomez?"_

He was not just imagining Morticia now, he was even starting to hear her voice inside his head.

_"__Gomez?"_

Her call seemed persistent. It was not until he smiled sheepishly on the window of his car when he realized that Morticia was standing outside and leaning to his window. She was real and not just a figment of his imagination!

"What are you doing here?" they both asked each other at the same time.

"Wait – what?" Gomez confusedly asked.

"Why are you back?" Morticia asked kindly. She smiled at his confused look.

"Back?" he repeated. He looked behind Morticia and saw that he was indeed back at her house. He absently drove back. His bewildered reaction seemed to amuse Morticia, for she chuckled, though not in a offensive manner, Gomez vaguely noted. "I didn't realize I came back."

"Well, go home now, Gomez," she said, smiling at him.

"I suppose I really should," he agreed, returning her smile. "Good night again, Morticia."

"Good night, Gomez."

Reprimanding himself for making a fool of himself in front of Morticia, Gomez carefully drove home, making sure that his mind would not fly back to Morticia and how they spent the night, and absently return to Morticia's house for the second time. Upon reaching home, Gomez unlocked the front door of his father's single-storey slate gray house. His father used to stay there when he was teaching in the university.

Usually, Gomez would be even more lonely the moment he steps his foot on the porch. The mere absence of his father would make him sulk and for the nth time, blame himself for his brother's loss that ultimately led to his father's death. Passing the first door that led to Fester's supposedly bedroom had he also gone to college would tear Gomez even more, knowing that Fester would probably never set foot in the campus.

However, today was very much different from the past three years. In fact, the previous week was the start of the happiness in Gomez's life. Morticia's appearance changed everything Gomez was used to live in. From the moment he opened his eyes until the last second before he drift into a dream with nothing but Morticia, he would think of her endlessly.

That was why the moment he entered the house, he ignored the apparent gloomy ambiance. Come to think of it, the house did not even seem gloomy anymore. He flipped on the switch as he walked toward his room, filling the house with dim light. He barely even noticed Fester's locked door. In fact, he dared not speak until he closed his bedroom door shut.

"By jove!" Gomez exclaimed as he crashed on his bed with his arms tucked under his head. He smiled rather goofily on the ceiling, thinking of nothing and no one but Morticia. He laid there for some time, until he remembered that he had to do some assignment.

Still smiling like he never had before, he took out a pad of yellow paper and a thick book from his bag. He lazily flipped his book to the right page and wrote his name on top of the yellow paper. He was about to start reading the assigned pages when suddenly, Morticia's face flashed inside his head. Her face was vivid to his memory, he could actually paint it on a blank canvass if he wanted to.

He could not ask for a more perfect way to end the day, he thought as he doodled absently on his paper. Well that, of course, with the exception of him brushing Morticia away and looking like a fool by returning to her house.

It was not usual for him to pay attention to details nor was it usual for him to pay attention at all. But being with Morticia made things around him seem a hundred times sharper compared to the usual blur he used to see.

He could perfectly remember that there was a lone strand of hair on Morticia's face when she peered inside his car earlier. He also remembered that her earrings were composed of small bats chained together. And if he was not mistaken, there was a bush of wild rose they passed earlier before they climbed the Architecture Building, which Morticia gave a distasteful glance.

He could perfectly picture Morticia's sapphire blue, glacier-cold eyes, gleaming in the moonlight; how her ebony hair framed her heart-shaped face; how her eyes, no matter how blue they were, perfectly fit her features. He could not stop himself from imagining her heavy-lidded eyes crinkle slightly as she gave a very fond laugh on his Japanese president joke. In his mind, he pictured how her full lips, painted with maroon lipstick, split into a shy smile the moment he smiled at her just this afternoon when he came for her in the library; how her high cheekbones rose with her smile. She was very pale, not the unhealthy kind of pale, but only enough to serve as proof of her doing moon bathing just before she goes to bed.

Then he suddenly realized how Morticia would react had she known he was thinking of her when he was supposed to do his assignment. Shaking his head to clear his mind off Morticia for a while, looked down on the paper he was doodling on. Instead of senseless scribbles, he managed to do a rough sketch but in the perfect liking of Morticia. He smiled at his sudden artistry and carefully tore the paper from the rim and pinned it on his bed's headboard. He looked at his book and started reading Chapter 3, which his assignment was about.

A few moments passed and he soon was copying the questions from the chapter quiz to his paper. Briefly, he answered the question, realizing that what he was writing were based from the lessons he took three years back. Perhaps it was indeed Morticia's presence that made him understand the topics his professors discussed to him more than twice with great frustration previously, he thought to himself. His pen was hovering on his paper as he thought of what Morticia would think when she learns that she inspires him.

"Inspiration!" Gomez exclaimed to himself, finally realizing what Morticia did to him. She serves as his muse, giving him energy and unlocking his dormant wisdom to do whatever he had to do. Maybe once he told her about this, she would allow him to court her.

But he knew that he must not spring the realization immediately to Morticia, because for sure, it might shock her. She might walk out on him just like she did when he told her that he likes her. The right time will come, he thought confidently, savoring his current relationship with Morticia.

He smiled rather sheepishly, remembering how embarrassed they both felt after he admitted his feelings. The same thing happened when he let it slip the word 'love' to her when she was hesitant to join him to dinner. Good thing she let it go, but knowing her, she might pursue asking him about what he said.

Remembering that he was supposed to be doing his assignment, Gomez tried his best to stop himself from thinking about Morticia. The night wore on and Morticia kept sliding in and out of his mind, though this time, the moment when he was thinking about her would be shortly cut by Morticia's image in his head, looking sternly at him and scolding him for thinking about her instead of doing his assignment.

Finally, around seventeen minutes past two in the morning, Gomez wrote the last sentence to his paper: With these methods, iniquity could be eradicated. He stretched his arms.

Though it had been quite a splendid day that started with him dreaming of Morticia's face and finishing with him finalizing his assignment with the encouragement of an image of her inside his head, Gomez did not feel tired at all. If truth be told, the lack of things to do at the moment made him strangely long for Morticia. His mind wandered around his room, remembering that his brother was gone and his father died disappointed at him.

But somehow, it did not make him sad. Indeed, great remorse filled him up, but then he realized that he should not dwell with so much sadness in his life. He realized that although he caused the loss of two of his kin, he should not let himself not have a life. He thought of what they might tell him had they know how he was wasting his life.

His father, if it was even possible, would be even more disappointed at him. But Fester would react differently, despite their previous indifference. Perhaps he would just shrug and thump him in the back for finally finding the woman he truly fancies and leaving him with the Amore twins all for himself.

Deciding that he should have done it much earlier, Gomez told himself the he would still continue searching for Fester, but he would get a life. Thinking back, he was like a living dead since Fester disappeared! He also decided to rekindle his fragile relationship with his mother, apologizing for what he did. He imagined that she was deeply hurt with her husband dead, her eldest son gone, and her youngest son behaving like a zombie.

He remembered an old saying that goes one should forgive himself first before asking for the forgiveness from those he hurt. Now, he understood what that saying meant. And of course, he had Morticia to thank.

Looking at the clock on his bedside table, Gomez decided against calling his mother. She would probably be just irritated rather than pleased that he called her in the middle of the night. And perhaps an apology is best made in person than through the telephone. His thoughts wandered freely back to Morticia.

Not able to stop himself from wanting to see her, Gomez left and drove back to Morticia's house. It was dark and silent, as it was supposed to be in the middle of the night. Gomez stared blankly at the house, realizing that he had absolutely no idea which room his muse occupies. For all he knew, she could be sleeping in the basement. Come to think of it, he did not know whether they had a basement. Feeling more foolish than before, he climbed the willow tree on the right side of the house, onto the second floor balcony.

The glass-paned wooden doors that separated the balcony from the room were closed and velvet maroon curtains were drawn behind them. He pressed his palm on his frustrated eyes, feeling the increasing sheepishness growing at the pit of his stomach. He was about to give up, when a subtle wind from inside the room blew a slight gap on the curtains and he saw a glimpse inside.

He leaned forward, his nose pressing on the glass and his breath fogging it slightly, and barely saw a thing. Of course, it was dark; he vaguely thought, feeling more foolish. It was the dead of the night, everyone is already asleep, that is, excluding him. And no one in their right mind would switch on the light before they go to sleep.

Then, as though the person herself was emitting her own radiance, Gomez saw a pale face turn. The moon slightly illuminated her, giving him enough light to see that she was sleeping peacefully on the bed on his left. He stared at her, transfixed. He could not believe that such beautiful creature could inhabit the earth. Even more, he had the wonderful chance to meet her… and ultimately fall for her.

Her mouth was slightly open, with her hair flowing underneath her head, free from their usual braids, and she looked perfect. He gazed on, as the strands of hair on her face flew slightly from her soft breathing. Morticia shifted from the bed a bit, allowing him to see a bigger view of her in deep slumber.

He watched her, mesmerized even further, and focused on details other than her gorgeous face. Her right hand was lying relaxed over her pillow, while her left was on her stomach. Her chest was rising and falling in a slow rhythm, which Gomez found himself breathing in sync to.

He crouched by the door and stared at her for a long time, though he did not feel the time pass. He did not mind his uncomfortable position, nor the probable awkward questions to be asked had he was seen. But then again, everyone was asleep and there was a slim chance that someone would see him. That is, of course, as long as Morticia would not wake up and decides to take a nighttime gaze on her balcony.

After what seemed like only several minutes, a rooster nearby, crowed, shaking Gomez up. He frowned at the sound as he took the pocket watch out his breast pocket.

"By jove!" he whispered in surprise when he saw that it was already quarter past five in the morning. He looked up to the sky and noted that the darkness was already started lifting. He turned back to Morticia's sleeping figure. "Sleep well, Morticia. I shall see you in the morning, er, later."

For some reason, he smiled at his mistake before climbing over the balcony and down the willow tree. He took a last glance at Morticia's room, barely visible from his vantage point, filling elated. He went to his car and drove home in a happy silence.

He arrived home a few minutes later, and already the sky was in an even lighter shade. As he passed Fester's supposed room, Gomez felt the usual burden on his shoulders lift. He retraced his steps and stood just in front of the forlorn door. He did not bother to enter the room when he first arrived in the house and he still had no intentions of coming inside, not without Fester.

"I will find you, Fester," he said with great conviction in his voice. "I will find you and you will meet Morticia, the perfect woman." He then retired to bed, fully clothed.

* * *

Barely three hours passed and Gomez woke up ahead of his alarm clock. Usually, he would sleep through his alarm and only come already halfway through his first class. However, since he met Morticia, he felt the urge and excitement of coming to school. Actually, he did none of the things he used to do.

Upon opening his eyes, he smiled, recalling his dream about Morticia and the things they could do and places they could go to. He remembered the splendid day yesterday and hoped that to have the same, if not better, experience today. He felt quite sleepy, given his late excursion in the wee hours previously, but felt immensely refreshed that had nothing to do with his three hours of sleep.

Within a few minutes, he bathed, changed into yet another pinstripe suit (he was greatly flattered when Morticia said that she liked his taste for clothing that he decided to wear nothing but pinstripe suit to continually please her), and ate the remaining of the stale bread his mother sent to him and an overripe apple he bought a week ago. He arranged his things that he left on his table after finishing his assignment, and unpinned his sketch of Morticia from his bed's headboard. He carefully placed the sketch in the middle of his hard bound notebook, deciding to stare at it when things go boring at school.

His car keys were the hardest to locate, as he forgot that he put it inside his suit jacket the night before, and he recently put it in the laundry basket after taking a bath. After finally extracting it from his jacket, he left the house to go to Morticia's place.

He parked his Duisenberg in front of Morticia's house and casually leaned on the car's hood while waiting for her. He saw a muscular man go to the porch, knocked the door, and waited on the steps. The door opened, revealing Morticia, who was dressed in midnight blue turtleneck blouse with short sleeves, black leather jeans, and black leather ankle boots. The young man greeted her warmly by giving a brief embrace, which, to Gomez's horror, Morticia returned in a similarly warm manner.

Gomez's insides burned and twisted in an unpleasant way. He wanted no less than to strangle the man almost twice his size, who braved to lay his filthy and, although Gomez hated to admit it, strong hands on Morticia. He let out an audible huff and glared pointedly at them.

Gomez saw Morticia look beyond the young man. He watched how her eyes widened upon seeing him. She quickly let go of the man, murmuring something he could not catch. She went down the porch and walked towards him.

"Gomez!" she exclaimed. Her voice was higher than usual. "What are you doing here? I did not expect you to come here this early."

"Who is that man?" Gomez found himself growling, even almost snarling, at Morticia, whose eyes widened even more. She took a step back from Gomez.

"That… that is Christian," Morticia said in a quiet voice, spluttering with nervousness. "He is the son, the son of – of the house's caretaker… and Ophelia's beau."

"Why did he hug you?" Gomez continued growling, Morticia's response barely registering to his rather irrational, at the moment, mind.

"What…? Well he…" Morticia tried to answer, but confusion was evident on her face. She took a deep, steadying breath, and spoke in a similarly quiet voice, but this time, void of nervousness. "Why does it matter, anyway?"

At her question, Gomez seemed to wake up from his anguished trance. He realized that he, unlike Christian towards Ophelia, was not Morticia's beau. He blinked several times, and seemed to be seeing Morticia anew. "O-of course it does… I mean it doesn't. I was just asking."

Morticia tilted her head and seemed to repress a smile, to which Gomez's mustache quivered in delight. She still looked shocked, but much unlike when he snarled at her. "Forget about him. You look awfully tired, Gomez."

"Just sleepy, but not tired," he replied, smiling at her. 'Not tired at all."

"Yes, you have dark circles under your eyes," she agreed, peering at his face. Concern was etched on her beautiful face. "Have you not slept last night?"

"More or less three hours," he said.

"More or less?" she asked, frowning at him.

"Less, I guess," he admitted, feeling a mixture of pride and sheepishness course through him.

Morticia's frown deepened and Gomez realized that even when she frowns, she looked extremely beautiful. Of course, he preferred if she would not frown, especially not when the frown was for him. "Why?" she asked.

"Homework, among other things," he answered. "Please do not frown at me?"

She narrowed her eyes at him but said nothing. He tried not to meet her eyes as his insides squirmed guiltily for some reason. He felt that, Morticia somehow knew that he was again keeping something from her. He felt guiltier.

Before she could further inquire about his hesitance, fortunately, Ophelia and Christian came, holding each other's hand and beaming at them.

"Gomez, this is Christian," Morticia introduced the two young men. "Christian, this is Gomez."

Gomez thought he heard a tinge of an emotion unknown to him in Morticia's voice as she introduced Christian. This did not reassure him. Christian reached out a hand, which Gomez took and squeezed quite harder than proper. He nodded curtly and turned his attention back to Morticia in order to avoid starting a brawl against Christian. He had a feeling that he might not stand a chance.

"Shall we go then?" he asked her.

"Go?" she repeated, blinking innocently at him.

"I will drive you to class," he said by way of explanation.

"You do not have to,"

"I know, but I would love to." And there, he let out the 'L' word again in front of Morticia. And just like before, she slightly flinched. But unlike before, she looked at him in a different way, her eyes softened and her jaw relaxed, which he could not understand but made him feel warm inside. Then slowly, she smiled at him.

"I would love to, too," she almost whispered. If it would not be awkward and questionable, Gomez would have started doing cartwheels along the street when she said that. His ecstasy was sky-high.

He grinned at her and offered a hand, which she took. Without another look at Ophelia and Christian, Gomez helped Morticia get inside the car before he climbed in and started the car.

"Are you jealous of Christian?" Morticia suddenly asked curiously, surprising Gomez. He watched her raise an eyebrow at him.

"Jealous? Of Christian? Me?" Gomez repeated with a sarcastic smile, which appeared not to be noticed by Morticia, who seemed amused. He let out an even more sarcastic laugh. "That's laughable."

And with a great roar and a belch from the exhaust he purposely intended for Christian, they left.

* * *

**End of Chapter 8. Hello guys! Sorry it took me two (or was it three?) weeks before I posted Chapter 8. I was quite busy with work and gym that I did not have much time in my hands. Nevertheless, here was Chapter 8. I decided to finish the story in fifteen chapters. I already have the outline, but I would really appreciate if you have any suggestions regarding the flow of the story.**

**I also would like to take this opportunity to thank those who commented and favorited this fanfiction. Thank you for your kind words! MANY, MANY, MANY THANKS GUYS! UNTIL CHAPTER 9! :D**


	9. Chapter 9: The True Me

**Here is Chapter 9! I hope you like it. *^.^***

* * *

For the following days, Morticia and Gomez learned more about each other. Though both of them avoided discussions that could lead to the things they were afraid of divulging to each other. However, it is apparent to both that the other way hiding something.

Mostly, during Morticia's free period when she would usually study or already do her assignments to free her nights, she would stay in the library with Phoebe, and occasionally, Ophelia. They would also do their works, but usually would talk more than write or read, unlike Morticia, who would usually just listen to them as she studies.

Gomez would also be with them whenever he could. He would just watch Morticia study, vaguely paying attention to Phoebe and Ophelia, which suited them better as they would fluster and stutter whenever Gomez would join the conversation.

The reason why Morticia would study during her free periods was to be able to dine out with Gomez after her classes. After their dinner, they would explore the campus and talk until they realized that it was already late, or when either of them absently asked an awkward question that would lead them to pay sudden attention to time and suggest that they should go home.

Usually, it was Morticia who would ask the awkward question, mostly about Gomez's family, making Gomez close like a clam and not speak anymore. She soon realized that his family was a touchy subject, that she learned not to ask about it anymore. Though of course, sometimes she would let a question accidentally slip.

On the rare times Gomez was not around, Morticia would seize the moment to tell Phoebe about how she and Gomez spent the night. She would tell her about the things they talked about, but would not go to the specifics, especially if she thought that what Gomez shared was too private for another person's ears. When time would not allow it, Morticia would tell Ophelia everything in hushed voice during their classes.

Of course, Ophelia already knew about what happened. When Morticia arrives home every night, she would be situated in the sitting room on the second floor, waiting for her sister to tell her what they did, totally ignoring the fact that the time was already late and Morticia needed some sleep. But still, Ophelia would intently listen as her sister recalled the occurrence of the previous night, and comment and ask further with Phoebe. Sometimes, Morticia would answer, but more often than not, she would just smile at them mysteriously and say nothing. This left Phoebe and Ophelia frustrated from guessing.

One particular day, Gomez was not with them and Morticia had no work to do. She was telling Phoebe and Ophelia about her observation on Gomez's reluctance to discuss his family.

"… and when I would ask him simple things about his family, like whether he has a sibling, which I must say I have asked several times already, he would suddenly remember that it was already eleven in the evening. Or sometimes, he would ask me a question completely off topic."

"I told you, Morticia, not just once or twice" Ophelia replied in an exasperated tone. "You better not pester him about things he does not want to talk about."

"Ophelia, you cannot blame Morticia for wanting to know more about Gomez," Phoebe said softly. "After all, she seemed to have told him quite many things about her. It is only fair that Gomez gives his share."

"Many things, yes. But I'm quite certain Morticia haven't told Gomez about a specific thing about her," Ophelia retorted stubbornly. "Have you, Morticia?"

"If you are asking me whether I already told him that I am a witch, or I must say that I want to become a fully-pledged witch, then the answer is no," Morticia answered fiddling with her pen. "Gomez is keeping something from me and I know it. He could be a witch hunter and if I tell him that I am a witch, he might just bring me to his superiors for an execution."

"Oh, I doubt that he would do that," Phoebe countered gently. She put her face to rest on top of her hands propped on the library table. "He is too into you, Morticia. Even if he is a witch hunter, which I also doubt, he would never do you in."

"But have you told him that you still want to go to Salem University?" Ophelia asked.

"No," Morticia replied. She looked sadly at her sister. "He is a sharp man, he might put two and two together and realize what I want to be. And if he is a witch hunter –"

"Are you worried that he might be a witch hunter or that he might be afraid of you once he knew?" Phoebe interrupted.

"I…" was Morticia's only response. She rested her head on top of the table.

"You really like him, don't you, Morticia?" Phoebe softly asked. She placed a comforting hand on Morticia's shoulder. "You are afraid that he might lose interest and be afraid of you, aren't you?"

Morticia shifted her head to look at Phoebe. "He's… I..."

"I think Morticia wants a reassurance," Phoebe said to Ophelia, who looked at her blankly.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Well, her being a witch is something unusual and what everyone is afraid of, just like me being a banshee –"

"You are a banshee?!" Ophelia almost cried, her eyes wide in shock.

"Oh, hush, Ophelia," Phoebe scolded. "Please do not shout about my real identity. Besides, I thought you told her, Morticia."

"She was usually with Christian when I first met you," Morticia said in a muffled voice with her head still on the table, not looking at either of them. "Then the week later, Gomez came to the picture and I got distracted…"

"You like him!" Ophelia exclaimed.

"Shush, Ophelia," Phoebe scolded, obviously irritated at her tendency of exclaiming loudly on private matters. "As I was saying, she wants a reassurance that even if she told Gomez what she truly is, he would not run away, screaming his head off. And I think, the only reassurance she could get is Gomez being an open book as well."

"But Gomez might be thinking the same thing," Ophelia contradicted. "I mean, he probably could sense that Morticia was also keeping something from him."

"Well, he asked me why Mother and I were not in good terms," Morticia replied, raising her head a bit. "I only said that we had difference."

"And what did he say?"

"He did not pursue the subject, but I think he knew something was off," Morticia said before dropping her head again on the table with a dull thud.

"But if you do not like him, none of this matters," Ophelia pointed out. She lifted Morticia's head from the table and pushed her back on her chair, forcing her to look at them "You would not care to know about his family and you would not be conflicting about telling him that you are a witch."

"Of course, she likes him, Ophelia –" Phoebe started as she watched Morticia put her head onto the table once again.

"Then why won't she admit it out loud?" Ophelia interrupted. She moved to push Morticia back up but Phoebe stopped her.

"She does not have to tell _us_. She has to tell _Gomez_."

"Well then, why don't you tell him?"

"He isn't pursuing the subject," Morticia's voice same even more muffled.

"And it would be anticlimactic if she would just suddenly tell Gomez that she likes him," added Phoebe. She shared a delighted glance with Ophelia, for though implicitly, Morticia finally admitted her feelings, at least to them.

"Why?" Ophelia asked. She rested her arms on the table and put her chin on top of her arms.

"Because Gomez is a romantic man. Don't you remember that he told Morticia that he wanted to divulge his feelings for her during dinner and not along the hallway of the Literature Building?"

"I remember. But he is not asking Morticia either, how would he know –?"

"Whether Morticia likes him? Of course he knows –"

"He does?" Morticia asked, pulling herself up suddenly. She looked at Phoebe with alarmed eyes.

"How could he know?" Ophelia asked Phoebe.

"Not in so many ways. He could vaguely feel it," she replied, reclining on her chair. "But then, he is so into you that he could just be imagining it since you have not told him yet, meaning no confirmation. And in order to avoid looking fooling by asking you with the possibility of being rejected, he just enjoys your company. It is better to be your friend than be rejected with things awkward between the two of you."

"Would he still ask her, then?" Ophelia asked.

"Yes, definitely. But when, I am not sure. It could be when he is not patient to wait any longer."

Neither Morticia nor Ophelia replied. For Ophelia, Phoebe's reply was enough, though for Morticia, her friend's response raised a new curiosity.

"You seem to know many things about men, Phoebe," she said.

"I was married once, I think I know how men think," Phoebe replied, barely batting an eyelid. "Well, perhaps our kind of men," she added with a wink.

"You were married?!" Ophelia definitely cried. The occupants of the nearby table looked at them.

"Why do you have to repeat the things about me in a shout, Ophelia?" Phoebe asked exasperatedly. Morticia rolled her eyes and almost smiled.

"I'm sorry, I'm just surprised," Ophelia apologized. "It is one thing that you are a banshee –"

"Don't –" Morticia hissed, but her sister just ignored her.

"– no wonder your voice is husky. But being married is another thing," finished Ophelia, her voice shrilly with surprise.

"When were you married, Phoebe?" Morticia asked in a quiet voice, choosing to ignore her sister's insensitivity. "You seem to speak about it as if it was ages ago."

"You can say that. Banshees are immortal, you see," Phoebe replied with no trace of humor. "We do not die of natural causes but we can be killed. We can get run over by a car and die, especially that we'd rather not go to the hospitals to get cure. There would be too many awkward questions and once they learned what we are, they will just kill us, so there is no difference.

"Anyway, some decades ago, I think it was during the late 50s or early 60s, I was married. However, after our son died…" Phoebe paused to swallow. Her eyes watered but she did not cry. She took a deep breath before continuing. "After our son died, we got divorced and he married a vampire. I, however, retained his name, Munster, and left the country. I only returned this year."

"I didn't know that banshees could be killed," Morticia whispered. "There were no accounts."

"Well, many banshees are uneducated, so whenever they see humans, they scream, not to kill, but because they are scared."

"You mean, your kind do not kill on purpose?"

"No. But our screams are fatal to humans."

"Have you –?" Ophelia quipped, and fortunately, it was in a whispered.

"No, my family line was educated and we learned to mingle with humans," Phoebe cut into Ophelia before she could finish her question. "Who taught us, I do not know, but I am grateful to that person."

"You should write about banshees, Phoebe," Morticia suggested. She leaned forward to Phoebe with great interest. "Let people know about your kind and start spreading equality."

"A kind thought, Morticia, thank you. But people are too…"

"Prejudiced?" Ophelia offered, disgust coursing through her voice.

"Yes."

"No matter how many people claim that there are good witches, no one believes them. Same thing about banshees, Morticia."

Morticia did not speak for a time, sinking in what Ophelia just said. "I am sorry about your son, Phoebe."

"Thank you, Morticia,"

"How did he… die?" Ophelia quietly asked,

"Eddy was a very unruly child. Nothing Herman, my ex-husband, and I tell him would stop him when he wants to do something. I honestly do not know why he was like that.

"One day, he and his friends went cliff diving… he was only seven!" Tears streamed down Phoebe's cheeks. Even Morticia's eyes were gleaming.

"I'm sorry," Ophelia murmured sadly.

"Things between me and Herman were already fragile having been married at a young age. And Eddy's death severed the only link that bound us together." Phoebe said in a similarly quiet voice. "He married my stepsister, Lily."

"Your sister?" Morticia repeated in surprise. "But she is a vampire."

"My mother married her father, the Count."

"_The _Count?"

"I'm not certain. Their family is big; I think many of them claimed to be the real Count Dracula."

"How exactly do banshees reproduce? That is if you do not mind me asking," Ophelia asked. "I mean, are there male banshees?"

"No, there are none. But when female banshees mate with any male being, human or not, young banshees are born," Phoebe started explaining. "There is actually no guarantee that the mating would bring banshees. Sometimes, the male would overcome the banshee's genes and produce his offspring. It could be male or female. Like my brother, he was human."

"Was?"

"He died a long time ago…"

"I'm sorry…"

"You saw death of relatives many times already…" Ophelia quietly commented. "I really am sorry."

"Death is inevitable, I am not just fortunate to experience it myself."

"There is a reason." Morticia consoled Ophelia by placing a hand over hers and squeezing it and giving her a smile. "Had you died, I would not have met you."

Phoebe smiled back at Morticia. The greenish tinge of her skin marred with slight pink as she blushed, completely pleased that once in her life, someone truly appreciated her.

* * *

Gomez was extremely nervous when he arrived at the Literature Building. He decided to tell Morticia about Fester, his family, what happened to them, and why. Upon reaching the sixth floor, he could not stop himself from having jitters. He took out a cigar from his pocket and inhaled a long draft. He just blew out the smoke and was about to take another huff when an old janitor passed him and scolded him for smoking inside the building, which was a non-smoking area.

"I'm sorry," Gomez murmured to the janitor who was glaring daggers at him, as he pocketed his still alight cigar. Taking several deep, smoke-free breaths, he finally managed to stop his involuntary movements. However, his anxiety seemed to grow. If only he could finish his cigar, his nervousness would surely leave him. Instead, he nervously waited for the warning bell to sound.

Morticia was accustomed to Gomez waiting outside her classroom after her last period that it did not surprise her to see him leaning seemingly casual on the wall beside the classroom door. However, she frowned upon seeing his face. His usual smiling eyes looked serious, lacking their usual twinkle. He tried to smile at her when she reached him but just like several nights ago, his smile looked more like a grimace.

"Gomez?" she asked worriedly when she reached him. She vaguely waved goodbye to Phoebe who climbed down the stairs to leave her alone with him.

His eyes flickered with joy for a fraction of a second upon hearing the concern in her voice. However, remembering the reason for his anxiety, his eyes lost their joy.

"Is there anything wrong?" she asked with the same worried sound in her voice. Even her eyes mirrored her worry.

"You are wrong," Gomez and Morticia heard a female voice reply. They both turned and saw Natalie and her friends watching them, envy apparent in their faces.

"I have something important to tell you, Morticia," Gomez said, facing Morticia and completely ignoring Natalie, as if she did not just interrupt him. He took her hand and pressed his lips on it for a kiss, trying to put his entire unsaid message in it. "Come with me now?"

She felt that he was attempting to say many things in the kiss that she frowned and felt a bit nervous. She nodded and together, they left, leaving Natalie and her friends enraged with jealousy.

They drove in silence and Morticia dared not to break the quiet atmosphere. It was not until she saw unfamiliar landscape that she realized that they were driving outside the campus. She glanced at Gomez, who was looking distracted with nervousness, and decided not to question the whereabouts of their destination. She stared outside and anxiously wondered what was going on.

Meanwhile, Gomez was having his own internal struggle: should he or should he not tell Morticia? He knew that she was also nervous at his inexplicable actions, also at his decision of driving outside the campus, but he could not command his mouth to open and speak, for he might just throw up because of the anxiety that was filling him up. He could not bear to imagine her disgusted with her. And that added up to his worries.

They continued driving for an hour or so. Finally, they parked outside a rather fancy restaurant. Despite his nervousness, Gomez did not forget his manners and helped Morticia out of the car. Still in silence, they walked inside the restaurant, where the doorman tipped off his hat as they entered.

A female receptionist who was all over Gomez, just like any other women in their right mind, checked his reservation and asked a waiter to bring them to their table. It was inside the private area at the back of the restaurant. Another waiter came, carrying a plate of appetizer and placed it on their table as the other waiter handed them the menu and moved to leave.

However, neither Morticia nor Gomez seemed to be kin to be interrupted that they placed an order hastily. Before leaving, the waiter assured them that their order would be served in twenty minutes. The other waiter also left, feeling that is presence was unwanted.

Could stand it any longer, Morticia spoke up in an unintentional stern voice. "Gomez, what is bothering you? You barely said a word to me and I am getting more anxious by the minute." Realizing that she sounded all but anxious, she moderated her voice. "Please, Gomez, tell me what is wrong."

Gomez took a deep breath. "I want to tell you the truth."

"The truth about what?" she asked in a low voice.

"About me. You have asked me several times about my family and I avoided answering your ques –"

"It does not matter. I know you are not ready to discuss your family and it is alright with me. I understand."

"I am now ready. Well, I think I am now ready," he hesitated. "I spent last night and most of the morning contemplating –"

"That is why you haven't got much sleep," she commented.

"Yes. And I want you to know everything. All I ask from you is not to interrupt me as I speak."

"Sorry," Morticia said meekly, looking down at her hands on her lap.

Gomez reached out to pull Morticia's hand away from her. He gently caressed it and did not let go of it as he spoke. "Don't be…" he let out a shaky breath before starting. "I had a brother, his name was Fester."

She opened her mouth to ask about the past tense he used. But then she remembered his request and pressed her lips together and listened to him. "He left years previously and until now, he has not returned. His absence was because of what I did, which ultimately caused the death of my father.

"You see, seven years ago, he was in love to Flora and Fauna Amore. Everywhere he went, women fawn over him. He was also Mother and Father's favorite son that in their will, most of the fortune would be passed on to Fester. I was three years younger and although as children we were extremely close, I was no more than his shadow. People identified me as 'Fester's younger brother' and no one bothered to know my name.

"Because of that, I became jealous of Fester that I..." he squeezed her hand and closed his eyes as he continued. "I decided to hurt him the hardest way I could – I... I made the amore twins fall in love with me and convinced them to get immensely angry at him."

Morticia gasped but said nothing.

"I told the Amore twins a number of lies, that Fester said this and that about them, that Fester thought that they were this and that. It was not that hard to convince them, actually. And so, I succeeded and dropped the bombshell to Fester: I never loved nor had a little interest to the Amore twins. I was merely playing with them to hurt him.

She gasped again and put her free hand on her mouth. Silent tears cascaded down her cheeks. He reached out his other hand to wipe her tears, but they kept on falling.

"Devastated, Fester told the Amore twin about what I did to them," he said, his voice broke. "Please do not cry, Morticia."

"I'm sorry," she said again, taking a deep breath to calm herself down.

"They were reluctant to believe as I have told them a rather believable story about Fester. But then I did not care about them anymore, I already hurt Fester, mission accomplished. So I admitted that what Fester told them were true."

For the third time, Morticia gasped. Fresh tears streamed down her cheeks. She took a blank handkerchief from her purse and dabbed her eyes.

"They cried in front of me," Gomez said in a low voice. It was not until now that he realized the pain he had caused Fester and the Amore twins. "They demanded to tell them I was just joking, which of course, I was not. They collapsed and Mr. and Mrs. Amore came in. They were angry at me, although they did not yet know what I did. They were just mad because they knew I did something to their daughters. They brought the twins to the hospital and Fester came with them. I think Fester told them everything, either on their way to the hospital or after the twins were admitted." He looked at her and understood her unasked question. "They, the Amore twins cracked up. They have gone insane by what I did."

Morticia's eyes grew big and she sank on her chair, breathing heavily. Gomez held her hand tighter, as if she was a life line.

"Fester only returned to tell me what happened, perhaps he also told our parents. And he left for good. Of course, our parents were devastated by Fester's leaving and disappointed by my actions. I cannot blame them, now I truly realized what I did. After a year's effort of finding Fester, my father succumbed to grief and… died. He died disappointed with me."

This time, his hold on her slackened in weakness and humiliation, but she did not let go. Instead, she tightened her hold on his hand, giving him the energy to go on.

"I never stopped looking for Fester. During the summer break, I would drive from East to West Coast, from Northern Canada to Mexico, fly overseas, but still find no trace of Fester. Years ago, I found out where the Amore twins were confined and I visited them, although I was banned from the premises.

"The twins seemed to have forgotten what I did, as when they saw me, they were actually glad. When I first visited them, they were catatonic, but they started speaking upon seeing me. I frequently visited them because I hoped that knew where Fester might be. But they had no idea.

"Just this past summer, Mr. and Mrs. Amore found out that I was visiting and issued a restraining order against me… and Fester… he's still gone." Silence enveloped them as the ending of his story lingered in the air. He braved a look at Morticia. Her eyes were still shimmering with tears and her pristine cheeks were tear-stained. He once again lifted his free hand and brushed away her tears.

"Oh, Morticia, please stop crying," he softly said. "I cannot bear to see you cry."

"That was awful," she whispered.

"I know, and I still regret doing that to such innocent people."

Quite anticlimactic, the waiter arrived. Seeing that he interrupted a private conversation, he hastily served their meal and left in a flash.

Morticia looked down on her plate. "I do not think I can eat."

Gomez stared at her, not believing what he just heard. "Aren't you leaving?"

"Should I?"

"I… of course not… but I thought…" he closed his eyes and took a deep breath to compose himself. "I though you would leave when you learned the truth."

Morticia gave him an amused smile. "Gomez, just like what you said before, everyone has skeletons in their closets." She shrugged. "You drove me this far, and do you actually believe that I can find my way back to the campus? Besides, hearing what you did does not mean that I like you less." Her eyes grew big as she realized what she just admitted. Despite her claim of not being able to eat, she immediately took the fork from the table and started eating.

He, on the other hand, could not believe his ears. Besides the fact that she stayed after learning about his stupid actions from the past, she also admitted that she likes him! He felt his dread completely leave his body. He smiled to himself and started eating as well.

* * *

"So you are not a witch hunter?" Morticia asked as they drink their wines after their meal.

"No," Gomez replied. "That is a brutal occupation. Why did you ask?"

"I will be honest with you as you have been to me," she said. She took a deep breath. "I am a witch."

He blinked at her. She stared back. There was a long silence.

She started jiggling her leg under the table for she was getting extremely nervous, yet he was still just staring at her with no reaction whatsoever.

"Well?!" she finally asked, her voice louder and higher than she intended. He shook his head to clear off his mind.

"Well, what?" he asked.

"Did you hear me?"

"Yes, you are a witch."

"And?"

"And, what?" he asked again in confusion.

"Aren't you bothered? Aren't you scared? Aren't you –?"

"Morticia, haven't I told you that I like you no matter what?"

"But –"

"You bewitched me –"

"That wasn't what I meant –"

"And it has nothing to do with you being a witch," he finished.

"Huh?" she replied, confused.

"The moment I first laid eyes on you, even if I had not seen your face, there was something about you that captured me… that captured my heart. And nothing could change that. Not even if you have killed thousands of men." He leaned forward and pried her hands from her grip from her wine glass. He held them and kissed each with so much passion. He stared intently at her as he softly asked, "Will you please allow me to court you?"

Morticia smiled her special smile for Gomez. "I thought you'd never ask me that again."

"Is that a 'no'?" he asked, frowning slightly.

"Do not frown, Gomez," she softly reprimanded. "And no, that was not a 'no', I thought you already knew that."

"But I want to hear it from you," he whispered, for he could not raise his voice further.

"It's not as if I am already permitting us to be in a relationship," she teased with a sly smile.

"No," he agreed and almost begged. "But at least I would be a step closer to that goal. Please, Morticia?"

"Yes," she simply said. She watched him relax and smile widely at her. His smile reached his eyes and his joy reverberated. She could not help but smile gladly back at him.

The drive back home was silent, though in a silence that was completely the opposite of the silence during their drive to the restaurant. Gomez was elated and his joy was contagious, affecting Morticia. The both of them were smiling serenely, obviously completely satisfied with the outcome of their full disclosure.

For both Morticia and Gomez, the ride home was too quick for their liking. In a matter of what seemed like several minutes, they parked in front of her home. Neither of them was keen on getting out of the car. But it surely felt awkward to be sitting inside Gomez's Duisenberg, not speaking with each other but just smiling to their heart's content.

Finally, Gomez grudgingly stepped of his car and went to the passenger side to open the door for Morticia. He held out a hand to her, which she took. Her hold was as firm as his. They walked ever so slowly to Morticia's porch where they stood, holding each other's hand, not wanting to let go.

He lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss on it. She smiled at his sweet gesture.

"I shall see you in the morning?" he asked, not letting go of her hand.

"Yes," she breathed. Without any reluctance, she stepped forward and kissed him on the cheek. As she pulled back, she saw the joy in his eyes. "Oops," she said, noticing that she left a red imprint of her lips on his cheek. She reached out to wipe it off, but he stopped her.

"Don't. Leave it," he simply said, catching her hand. "I might only be dreaming. When I see this, I would know that your kiss was real."

She smiled even more. He grinned at her.

"Good night, Morticia."

"Good night, Gomez." Before he could take a step away, Morticia turned around and went inside her house. Unlike the previous nights, not a single light was lit. Quite surprisingly, Ophelia was not waiting at the second floor sitting room, waiting for her, either. Morticia frowned at this. She walked to her sister's bedroom and knocked on her door. The door opened for only a fraction, revealing Ophelia's anxious eyes.

"Ophelia?" Morticia asked in concern, the memory of the night's events momentarily forgotten. Her sister further opened the door, and she went inside her room. "What happened?"

Ophelia's pallid face broke into the most ridiculously happy smile Morticia had ever seen. "We did it!" she exclaimed, practically jumping up and down with joy.

Morticia gasped. "It?" she repeated weakly. Her knees buckled and she dropped onto Ophelia's bed.

"Yes!" Ophelia gleefully answered, seemingly unaware of her sister's reaction. "We _finally _did it!"

"And you are telling me this because?" Morticia asked in no more than a whisper. She rested her back on the wall for some support.

"Because I want to tell you how good it was," Ophelia replied. She flopped right next to her sister. "Well, how _great _it was."

"Seriously?" Morticia asked in the same weak voice.

"Yes! Aren't you curious?"

"Vaguely."

"Come on, Morticia! Ask me a question about it!"

"Are you serious that you want to share the experience?" Morticia asked, clutching her chest for she was almost panting with shock.

"Yes, you are my twin sister!"

"Fine," Morticia finally said. She closed her eyes as she thought of a question that would satisfy her sister's insistence. "How was it?"

Ophelia giggled, which made Morticia almost sick with disgust. "It was great. And it was delicious."

Morticia nearly fainted. She regretted asking that, but Ophelia was on a roll to share the wonderful encounter. "It started right after we had an early dinner. We were alone here and we had nothing to do. Christian asked me whether I already tasted it, and I said no. So we went to a nearby store to get the supplies." She giggled again.

In her weakness and shock, Morticia was only able to mouth the word 'supplies'. She pressed the palms of her hand onto her forehead, wanting nothing more but for Ophelia to stop. However, her twin had other plans. She shifted and faced her as she continued narrating.

"It was harder than I thought! He did most of the job; sweat was forming in beads on his forehead since it was too hot. Even I was perspiring a bit. And when he finished and let me taste it, it was the sweetest thing that I've ever had." Ophelia's eyes misted as she recalled what Morticia saw as disturbing memories. Of course, it was only disturbing for her and not for Ophelia. "I now see what other people's fuss is all about. I cannot believe I haven't tried that earlier in my life! I can just imagine how fulfilled I would have been if I was not so naïve.

"And I have to thank Christian for giving me such pleasure. Ugh, it was sooooo delicious! I want another one!" She sighed with happiness. "You know, Morticia, we should try it sometime."

"We?!" Morticia almost cried out. Her eyes bulged so much, they looked as if they were about to fall off their sockets.

"Yes, we. What is wrong with that?" Ophelia asked. She raised a malicious eyebrow at her sister. "Fine, if you do not want to try it with me, try it with Gomez, instead."

That was all Morticia had to hear. She bolted up from Ophelia's bed and went to her own room, slamming her door shut with such for, it creaked in protest. She crashed on her bed, face down. She was determined to forget everything her sister told her, especially her offer to try _it _with her.

"Is she actually out of her mind?" her muffled voice said from underneath her pillow. She closed her eyes tightly in disbelief. With her sister's incredibly shocking revelation and offer, Morticia forgot to tell her what happened to her and Gomez. "Oh well, she had other… _delicious _things in her mind."

* * *

**Sooo... What do you think? Please comment! I want to know how you find thing chapter :D Gosh, I just cannot stop grinning. I will be waiting for your reviews and comments!**


	10. Chapter 10: Yes!

**Hello guys! Here is Chapter 10 (FINALLY!) I am sorry it took me so long to finish this. I had several days of writer's block, so even though I already have the outline of this chapter, it was hard for me to construct it. This chapter is quite long, I had too much fun writing. I added a bit of non-related narrative because I cannot think of topics for Morticia and Gomez's conversations. To be frank, thinking up of something for them to talk about is the hardest part for me, so if you have ideas, just let me know. Enjoy!**

***** I edited the ending of this chapter *****

* * *

The next day, the moment Morticia opened her eyes, Ophelia's blatant narration of hers and Christian's _delicious _excursion flooded back to her unwilling mind. She immediately closed her eyes and tried to erase the memory, but of course, she was unsuccessful. Deciding not to see a glimpse of her sister, in fear that she might have left out a detail and tell it to her excitedly, Morticia got up from bed and prepared for her class, three hours earlier than usual.

She did not even bother to boil water for her morning tea, in her hurry to escape Ophelia. With her hair still damp from shower, she braided it in two plaits and took random clothes from her closet. Barely an hour passed and Morticia was clad in midnight blue smock that stopped at her knees and fishnet stockings under a pair of black, high-top sneakers. She shouldered her bag and effortlessly sneaked out of the house.

When she opened the front door, she came face to face with a fist ready to knock on the previously shut door. The fist dropped and Morticia saw that it belonged to no other than Gomez Addams.

Relief washed over her and she flung her arms around his neck. "Oh, thank goodness, Gomez!" she breathed on his shoulder.

Though quite taken aback, he put a free hand on her back and patted her consolingly. "What's wrong?"

"Ophelia…" Morticia weakly replied.

"What happened to Ophelia?" Gomez asked worriedly.

She lifted her head to look Gomez in the eyes, though she didn't seem to actually see him. "She… Christian… last night… _it_…" she replied incoherently. Morticia shuddered under his hold and again buried her head on his shoulder. "Ugh!"

His eyes widened in shock. Of all things, this was not what he had at mind. But before he could say anything else, Morticia pulled back from her embrace and looked at him with a strange look in her eyes.

She realized that she jumped onto him unceremoniously. "I'm sorry…" she whispered.

He smiled. "It's alright."

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

"I brought breakfast," he replied, holding out a paper bag from his other hand. "I was up early and I decided to drop by, hoping to see you."

She returned his smile with one she reserved especially for him. "But I do not eat breakfast."

"I have tea," he suggested. "And stale bread."

Her smile widened. "Those I would have."

"Good," Gomez replied with a boyish grin. "Shall we have them inside your house?"

"No," she replied, a bit more forceful than intended. Her smile was lost. She changed tack and spoke softly. "I mean, no. Anywhere but here…"

He smiled again to encourage her to bring back her smile. "Anywhere but here, it is." He offered her his free hand. Together they went to his car and left.

* * *

Gomez parked a few meters from a ledge. He helped Morticia out of the car and led her to the edge of the outcrop.

"Would you be comfortable to sit here?" he asked.

Morticia smiled at him strangely. "Yes, but you would have to help me sit down." She held out her hand, which Gomez took. Gingerly, she crouched down and let her legs dangle over the ledge as she settled on the ground.

When he was certain that she won't fall over, Gomez returned to his Duisenberg to retrieve the paper bag carrying the breakfast he brought. He settled next to her, crossing one leg under the other, which was hanging by the outcrop of land they were sitting on. He took out an insulated tumbler and handed it to Morticia. She took it, slightly opened the lid and took a sniff.

"Henbane," she commented with a slight smile. "You remembered."

"I made it an obligation to remember everything I could about you," he replied, flashing her a boyish grin.

"Would you like to take a sip?" Morticia offered before drinking.

"No, thank you," Gomez replied. He held out another insulated tumbler for her to see. "Civet coffee."

"The most expensive coffee in the world," she commented as she took a sip of her tea. "Interesting."

"By some reason, there are a few Asian palm civets loitering back at home. And you know what happens when they just loiter," he said. He offered her his tumbler. "Would you like to taste it?"

"Thank you, but I would rather not. I am not really fond of coffees," she replied, taking another sip of her tea. "There must be a nearby coffee plantation from your house for them to be around your property."

"I have no idea… but aren't they supposed to be in Asia only? I mean, that was why they were called Asian palm civets, right?" he asked. He took a stale bread from the paper bag and handed it to Morticia. "I might have not burnt some parts of it."

She turned the bread on her hands and spotted a still pale part on the bread. "Yes, you missed this spot. It's alright, though," she said tearing a piece and popping it in her mouth. "Someone must have brought a pair or more of the civets from South or Southeast Asia."

He took a bite of the bread, thinking deeply. Then he snapped his fingers. "Of course! My cousin Perkasa was from Indonesia. He must be the one who brought the animals here when he visited three years ago."

For a while, Morticia and Gomez ate in a comfortable silence, both of them staring at the expanse of land underneath the ledge they were sitting on. Morticia was about to comment on the view when Gomez spoke up.

"What happened earlier?" he cautiously asked. He looked sideways at her, trying to gauge her reaction. She likewise looked at him sideways, her eyes hesitant.

She shook her head. "I would spare you the details… they are just too… Maybe we can talk about something else. Like, perhaps your relationship with your brother before things got…"

"I would like to know more about you," he interrupted.

She frowned. "What about me?"

"Everything I can know about you. For example, your relationship with your sister."

"Twin sister, actually."

"Really? Now that is hard to believe…" he commented rather tactlessly. Upon realizing what he just said by receiving a strange look from her, he added, "I mean… you dress differently, you behave differently, and she's blonde."

"Of all the things about Ophelia, the color of her hair registered to you as the most disturbing," she commented with an amused smile.

Gomez swallowed hard. He took a cigar from his breast pocket and put it in his mouth. Morticia watched with interest as he took a long huff from the unlit cigar and puff out spirals of smoke. The end of the cigar was burning like a charcoal, as though it was lighted for several minutes already.

"How do you do that?" she asked, interestedly.

He thought for a minute before shrugging. "I don't know. I just can."

"Oh… But going back to my sister…" she pressed on, smiling at him in a rather adorable manner that he could not resist.

"Well… she's blonde," he repeated, sounding silly even to him.

"Yes, and my eyes are blue," she sighed sadly. She raised her tumbler to her lips and took a sip. "There are just things in life that you cannot escape."

"I like your eyes," he said as he puffed out another cloud of smoke.

She looked at him strangely. "You do?"

"Very much," he replied, looking deeply into her eyes.

"But I don't…" she replied quietly.

"Why?"

"They make me look like just the other people,"

"No, they don't," he countered. He shifted to directly face her with one of his legs tucked under him and the other hanging over the cliff. "They separate you from other."

"But they are blue," she insisted stubbornly. "Just like Natalie's and her friends."

"Who is Natalie?"

"Gomez!" she reprimanded softly, a hesitant smile forming on her lips.

"I just want to see you smile. I like your smile," he replied, smiling back at her. "Just like how I am fond of your eyes. Even if they're blue."

"Why?"

"Because they are the most striking feature of your face, they stand out. They make you noticeable," he said truthfully. He tossed his still-lit cigar over the cliff to focus solely on Morticia. "When you are with other people who also have blue eyes, you still stand out because the way your eyes are blue."

"What do you mean?" she asked. Despite herself, she could not take away her eyes from Gomez's gaze; it felt as if there was a magnet that was attracting her to look into his hazel eyes.

"Your eyes are not the usual blue. They are as blue as the waters surrounding glaciers, and as cold as well."

"But not to you," she softly countered.

"Not to me," he agreed. He slowly leaned forward to her. His face was inches from hers when he hesitated and stopped, thinking that it was improper for him to kiss her just yet. She agreed to let him court her, but they are not a couple yet. Instead, he tucked her loose hair behind her ear. He smiled tenderly at her and she returned it. Gomez felt as if her smile was meant to say thank you.

"Are you and your sister close?" he asked, straightening up. He took his tumbler and sipped before pulling another cigar from his jacket.

"Yes," Morticia replied, sitting up straightly as well. "She and our father are the only people who do not flinch on the sight of me. We rarely see our relatives and I am mostly cooped up inside the house."

"And your mother?"

"My mother is the person who visibly winces at my presence. She detests me."

"Perhaps –"

"Perhaps I am exaggerating?" she asked almost sarcastically. "I wish I am." She sighed and closed her eyes. When she opened them, pain was coursing that even Gomez felt it. "She and her sister, Esther, were both witches. Aunt Esther was very exploratory; she wanted to learn the extent of potion making. One night in Salem University, one of her concoctions blew up. Apparently, blood of gutted snake and cyanide should not be mixed with milk and sugar… she died and my mother was emotionally scarred. Since then, she stopped practicing witchcraft and hated everything that was not… 'normal'.

"They say I look just like Aunt Esther. It became evident when I was growing up that I have the makings of a witch. And when I learned what witches are, I decided that I wanted to be one – I _still_ want to become one.

"My mother tried everything to 'normalize' me, but I never liked any clothing dyed in colors other than black or deep purple or midnight blue or maroon. Upon realizing that I was following the footsteps of her sister, she started ignoring me in every way. When she would see me, her eyes would narrow with anger. My father told me to try to understand where my mother was coming from, why she was hesitant to let me become who I really am, but I just cannot. I am not her sister.

"And when I told her that I was accepted for Witchcraft in Salem, she almost sent me away from home. My father and Ophelia convinced me to come here instead, fulfill my mother's wishes with the condition that I will go to Salem University or in Transylvania University afterwards. Of course, Mother was not happy," she finished. She did not notice that she was staring into the horizon and that her eyes were tearful. She tried to smile and made a small joke, "And now I am crying for some reason."

He handed her a handkerchief. "You're hurt," he simply said in a low voice.

She took a deep breath and looked straight into his eyes. "Yes, I am. Because my mother hates me for what her sister did. She is angry at her sister for dying and leaving her alone, and she is lashing out her anger to me, given what I want to be," Her voice cracked. "I am hurt because my mother does not love me for what I am," she finished as fresh tears streamed down her cheeks. Gomez moved closer to her and pulled her into a consoling embrace. He held her on his chest as he rubbed her shoulders soothingly.

Morticia cried freely on his chest, ignoring everything and finding an inexplicable comfort in his arms. She buried her head into his suit jacket, relinquishing eighteen years of misery and pain. They were locked in an embrace for what seemed like forever, by the ledge, overviewing the city's dump and landfill.

"Though I hate seeing you cry, let all the pain you are feeling flow out of you," Gomez said in a soothing voice as he run his hand on her shoulders. Her reply was muffled through her tears. "I'm sorry?" he asked.

She lifted her head to look at him. She sniffed. "I said I do not understand why I broke down in front of you, of all people. Even my sister does not know."

He smiled slightly. "Well, I am honored to be your crying shoulder. It just pains me to see you this morose."

"To be honest, Gomez, you make me do things I have never done before," she said. She pulled away from his embrace, though rather reluctantly. She dabbed her eyes with his handkerchief. "I will return this to you after I launder it."

"Keep it," he waved a hand dismissively. "I did not notice that I made you do things you do not want to do, my apologies for committing such ungentlemanly acts."

"Your apologies are unnecessary." She placed a gentle hand over his. "That was not what I meant. I meant showing… emotions to other people, to put things simply. You made me laugh, your presence allowed me to cry… and I feel comfortable about it," Morticia admitted. She pulled away her hand from his and placed it on her lap. She looked down and fiddled with his handkerchief.

"You are not the only one who does things he normally doesn't," Gomez replied. He touched her chin and made her look at him. He smiled at her and she smiled, rather shyly, back.

"Thank you for bringing me here," she said, breaking away from his lovely stare. She gestured towards the landfill below. "This is such a beautiful place. It certainly brought my thoughts away from my sister."

"It is, isn't it?" he agreed. He stood up and went to his car to fetch something. He was sitting down next to her before she noticed that he had gone. "It is my pleasure," he said, handing her a single, long stemmed, thorny, red rose.

She took it and again, smiled shyly at him. "Thank you, Gomez. This is very sweet of you," she whispered as she eyed the bloom of the flower. "I must say, this is the first moment I actually am fond of a rose's bloom."

"Don't you usually like them?" he asked curiously.

"Not usually," she replied. "I prefer the thorns over the blooms."

"You can still cut the bloom off that rose," he said. By some reason her penchant was appealing to him.

"Not this one," she said. She glanced at him and smiled. "This is a special rose, I will not cut if off."

He returned her smile before looking down at his pocket watch. "Shall we go?" he asked reluctantly.

"Go?" she repeated. She glanced up the sky and realized what the time was. "Already?" she murmured. "I suppose so."

He once again stood up and held out a hand for her to help her up. She took his proffered hand and tried to stand. However, her foot slipped and she almost fell over the ledge. Without batting an eyelid, Gomez pulled her away just in time, thanks to his quick reflexes.

"Thank you," she said, her voice small with shock. "I cannot imagine what might have happened if you were not here."

"I was frightened as well for a moment. I thought I might lose you," he replied. He walked away from the edge of the cliff, still holding her closely. He only released her when they reached the Duisenberg. He opened the car door for her and she slipped inside. After closing the door, he walked to the driver's side of the car and climbed inside. He started the engine. "But don't worry, I will always be here for you."

The drive back was quick, compared to the drive on their way to the edge of the cliff overlooking the landfill. Gomez was driving quite haphazardly, but Morticia did not mind. She was staring lovingly at the rose he gave her, marveling on its beauty and wondering why she missed it whenever she cuts the heads off roses. She was also processing what he told her and the extent of her emotions for him, by what she allowed herself to do in front of him. With a smile, she understood what she had to do.

Not a few moments later, they reached the Literature Building. They both climbed out the car and he walked with her to her classroom, just outside the door.

"Will I see you tonight?" she hopefully asked.

"And tomorrow night, and the night after that," he replied with a boyish smile. She smiled back and leaned forward on tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. With a swish of her braids, she opened the door of the classroom, leaving Gomez standing dazed outside. Inside, Mr. Belch was already writing on the white board and the rest of the class had their books opened on top of their desks.

Before she could apologize for her tardiness, Natalie's voice rang out. "Professor Belch?" she called.

"Yes, Miss Peterson?" Mr. Belch replied, straightening up and turning to face her.

"Morticia Frump is late, Professor Belch," Natalie said as she flashed Morticia a smug smile. "I believe that she just came from a date, given the rose in her hands."

Mr. Belch turned to Morticia and smiled at her softly. "We hardly started, Miss Frump, you may take your seat beside Miss Munster. And I must say, that rose is rather lovely."

"It is," agreed Morticia, returning his smile. "Thank you, Mr. Belch." She crossed the room and walked towards Phoebe, who was also smiling at her. As she passed Natalie and her friends' desks, Morticia could not help herself from giving them the same smug look Natalie just gave her. "Right back at you," she whispered.

Natalie narrowed her eyes and eyed Morticia with irritation. She looked at her and Phoebe and eavesdropped at their conversation.

"Gomez?" Phoebe simply asked.

Before replying, Morticia stared out of the window where she saw Gomez climbing inside his Duisenberg. She faced her friend and smiled happily. "Yes."

* * *

"Where are we having our free period?" Phoebe asked as she and Morticia left the after their third class ended.

"Anywhere but away from Ophelia," Morticia whispered back. As they were about to step out of the room, Natalie and her friends blocked their path.

Phoebe sighed exasperatedly. "What now, Natalie?"

"Let her be, Phoebe," Morticia softly said to prevent any ruckus.

"Yes, let me be, Phoebe," Natalie agreed mockingly. "Let me be the one to take Morticia's rose." She extended a hand to snatch the flower Morticia was holding, but Morticia slapped her hand away.

"Don't you dare," she said threateningly. She glared murderously at Natalie.

"Anything else, Natalie?" Phoebe asked in a mock sweetness. "Move. Come along, Morticia."

With Phoebe leading, they brushed past them. "What's with Ophelia?" she asked to stir Morticia's wrath away. She looked sideways and saw her holding the rose Gomez gave her tightly and protectively. She watched her friend close her eyes and take a deep breath to calm herself.

"Let us just sit under that big oak tree, Ophelia will not see us there," Morticia said. "I suppose you brought something to eat with you?"

"I always do, you know that," Phoebe answered as they sat on the ground. "What is going on?" she insisted, her voice very curious.

"After I tell you, I believe that you will not be as curious as you are now," Morticia warned. She placed the rose on her lap and looked at Phoebe with a pallid look on her face.

"No…" Phoebe said in a low voice, her eyes wide in shock.

"What do you have in mind?" Morticia asked, raising an eyebrow, challenging her friend.

"She ate a chocolate cake?" Phoebe suggested meekly.

"If only it was that simple," Morticia replied, shaking her head.

"Please don't tell me that what I really have in mind is not what happened," pleaded Phoebe. She shifted from her seat and stared at Morticia with begging eyes.

Morticia closed her eyes and spoke up, "Ophelia and Christian did it already."

"Ugh, my thoughts were right!" Phoebe replied as she buried her head on her hands. "No details please?"

"You asked what is going on, Phoebe. I _will _tell you what is going on."

"No, please?"

"No… according to her, it was delicious. Extremely exhausting and hot but definitely delicious. They were both perspiring while they were doing the deed. They were not even prepared; they had to go to a nearby store to purchase supplies. Thank goodness, she did not go to the specifics as to what they bought. And I quote my dear sister, 'It was harder than I thought!'"

"Enough, Morticia…"

"'And when he let me taste it, it was the sweetest thing that I've ever had. I cannot believe I haven't tried that earlier in my life! And I have to thank Christian for giving me such pleasure. I want another one right now!'"

"She didn't explain everything in detail…"

"She did."

"Everything?"

"Everything."

"But the worst was –"

"There could be worst than what I just heard and what she told you directly?"

"'We should try it sometime, sister. Or perhaps, you and Gomez should.'"

"I think I will be sick,"

"You do look a little green, Phoebe," Morticia joked subtly.

"Really? Your sis –" Phoebe stopped speaking upon realizing Morticia's joke. She threw a wadded up paper from her bag to her. "Of course I look a little green, I am a banshee!"

The two of them burst out laughing uncontrollably. When they finally calmed down, the both of them were partially covered with grass glades.

"That was my first joke," Morticia said, wiping off the tears from her eyes.

"It was good. Although at my expense," admitted Phoebe. "I cannot believe Ophelia gave you such gory details."

"Had I not walked out, I am sure she would have launched into finer details," Morticia replied. "She said she was letting me know because we are twins."

"But what they did is extremely personal," countered Phoebe. "And she actually invited you to do it together!"

"Oh, please, do not remind me about that. That was the most disturbing thing she said," Morticia said as she started brushing off her clothes. "I was not even able to tell her about Gomez."

"She is definitely out of her mind," Phoebe said. "Much like you about Gomez. You nearly tore Natalie into pieces earlier."

"I like him," Morticia admitted with confidence and a radiant smile. "But I would not do what Ophelia did."

"What, the deed?"

"I am not thinking doing that, not this early. And that was not what I meant, either. I meant that if… when I do the deed, I will not let her know. Most certainly that I will not tell her the details."

"But would you tell me?"

"Would you tell me about yours?"

Before either of them could reply, they looked straight at each other's eyes. They said in unison, "No."

"But what is happening between you and Gomez?"

Morticia smiled at the mention of his name. "He took me out to dinner last night. We talked about our pasts and… I permitted him to court me."

"That is wonderful, Morticia! Finally!" Phoebe exclaimed. She moved closer to her friend. "I told you he is not a witch hunter."

"Yes, he is not. He actually found nothing odd about me being a witch."

"That is because there is nothing odd about being a witch."

"But… he broke his family,"

Phoebe narrowed her eyes at Morticia's statement. However, she did not probe, which made Morticia relieved for she could not tell just anyone about Gomez's past. It was not hers to share. "And does it bother you?"

"Not in the way I should be bothered."

"What do you mean?"

"Perhaps I should be wary about his tendency of hurting those close to him, but I am not," Morticia said slowly. "I am concerned about how broken he is because of what he did."

"You really adore him, don't you?" Phoebe asked, her eyes twinkling with fascination. "I am happy for you."

"Thank you," Morticia said softly. "You know, recently, most of the things I say included saying 'thank you'. I never knew I was capable of simple kindness."

"You never said 'thank you' before?" Phoebe asked. She frowned as she tried to understand what her friend just said.

"I have never received compliments that would require me to say that," Morticia replied. She frowned, remembering her childhood. "My mother was not pleasant to me as she was to Ophelia."

"I am sorry…" Phoebe whispered. She looked beyond Morticia and said, "Speaking of Ophelia…"

"Please do not tell me she is here," Morticia requested in a defeated tone.

"She is," Phoebe replied, giving a small wave towards the direction of Ophelia.

"How could she have seen us here?" Morticia asked irritated. She grunted under her breath. She dusted herself off and stood up, Phoebe copied her. "Let us leave," Morticia muttered.

"Oh, there you are!" Ophelia's shrill voice rang out, further irritating Morticia, who brushed past her, scowling. "Morticia!" she called out, following her sister. However, Phoebe took hold of her by the arm to stop her. "What?"

"Don't," Phoebe simply said, shaking her head.

"Why? What's with her?" Ophelia asked. She and Phoebe watched while Morticia's figure grew smaller as she walked away from them. "She's been like that last night."

"Well, last night…" Phoebe started but Ophelia interrupted her.

"All I told her was that –"

"I know! You do not have to tell me," Phoebe exclaimed with much force than intended, to stop hearing in firsthand what happened. She had enough details from Morticia.

"And what is wrong if I told her what happened? It was completely innocent!" Ophelia cried out indignantly, her shrill voice becoming even shriller.

"Uh, Ophelia, I would never call that innocent," Phoebe softly said.

"What? It was just a simple –" Ophelia countered.

"Just, let her cool off, would you?" interrupted Phoebe as she was not eager to know how simple the happenings the night before was. "Bye, Ophelia." Taking big strides, Phoebe was away from the frustrated Ophelia. She had to jog to finally catch up with Morticia.

However, before she could say something, they almost walked over Gomez. In her fury, Morticia did not even notice him until he walked with them and spoke up to Phoebe.

"Phoebe, what happened?" he asked, concern etched in his face.

"Gomez!" Morticia exclaimed, her ire instantly evaporating at the sight of him.

"Ophelia," Phoebe simply replied. She turned to Morticia. "Now that I know that you are in good hands, I will leave you. Just make sure that your anger would be gone by next period. Though it would be enjoyable for me to watch, I doubt that Miss Clavell would appreciate it if you would rip Natalie's head off the moment you step into the classroom." Without much further ado, she was gone, leaving Morticia gaping at the space she previously occupied.

"Well, your friend certainly is elusive at my presence," Gomez commented with amusement, eyeing Phoebe's retreating figure.

"She very much prefers your presence," Morticia replied a bit distractedly. "Except that she prefers your presence when Ophelia is also around. They fancy you, haven't you noticed?" she asked, her voice mangled with a mixture of amusement and the slightest hint of jealousy.

He narrowed his eyes on her, as he sensed the latter emotion in her voice. "I never notice other things with you around, you see," he said by way of explanation. He furthered flattering her as they started walking to the same direction Phoebe disappeared into. "Your beauty, and your presence as a whole, is quite distracting."

She huffed gracefully and rolled her eyes to express exasperation, though the slight blush on the apples of her cheeks were conveying a different message. She smiled shyly at him. "Stop flattering me, Gomez. It won't bring you anywhere."

"Won't it?" he teased with a boyish grin he reserved especially for her.

"Stop that, Gomez," she whispered, though sounding very much amused.

"As long as you will answer my question," he replied, sobering slightly.

"What question?" she asked warily, her eyes narrowed. She stopped walking to face him.

"The one I am about to ask right now," he said softly, halting his steps as well. "Why were you irate?"

"Oh, that… well," she shrugged and continued walking. Gomez followed her. "Just like what Phoebe said, Ophelia," she simply said. She glanced sideways at him and saw that he was patiently waiting for her to continue her explanation. She shrugged again. "I told Phoebe to go to a place where Ophelia cannot bother us so that I can tell her what happened. However, Ophelia found us, and, well, I am just not ready to see her."

"And that irritated you…" he supplied.

"I suppose so,"

"Morticia?"

"Yes?" she smiled slightly at the sound of her name coming out of his lips.

"Why won't you tell me what Ophelia and Christian did?" he quietly asked.

"You are one curious man, aren't you?" she amusedly asked. "Gomez, please do not think that I am keeping the information from you because I do not trust you. It is just that, I am embarrassed for my sister. And I would really rather not have you hear it."

"Try me," he insisted. He looked at her with pleading eyes.

"Oh, Gomez Addams! You are difficult to refuse to!" she chided, chuckling at his expression. "Alright, I will tell you snippets of what they did. But always remember that I warned you not just once."

"That bad, huh?" he asked.

"Perhaps," she replied, amusement evident in her face. "Ophelia said that it was the most delicious thing she ever tasted."

"She did not," he commented, completely horrified. Apparently, it was not how he imagined Ophelia to describe what happened.

She smirked at him wickedly and continued, emphasizing on key words. "She said that it was _harder_ than she imagined. They were _sweating_ with _heat_."

"No more, please?" he begged, this time, however, his pleading was real.

Morticia laughed heartily. He smiled at her laugh, though he looked quite disgusted with what he heard. "You are just like Phoebe, pleading for information but beseeching me to stop." Inside, she was pleased that he asked her to end her narration, for she was not willing to divulge Ophelia's last statement.

"But then, what did Phoebe meant by ripping someone's head off?" he asked, clearly desiring to change to subject. She chuckled at this.

"Natalie's head?" she asked, smiling amusedly. "Well, to simplify things, Natalie attempted to take the rose you gave me."

"And?"

"And I told her not to,"

"Just like that?"

"Just like that,"

"Hmmm. I doubt that it was just like that, given how Phoebe put it,"

"Believe me, Gomez, I just told her 'Don't.'"

"And you were angry?"

"To put it lightly, yes."

"I see…" he finally said, looking quite pleased.

They continued walking, though this time, in silence. As they neared the building where Morticia's next class would be held, Gomez asked another question.

"Do you still want to go to Salem University?"

"Quite a sudden question, Gomez. I wonder where that came from," she commented, before thinking about his question. "Yes, I still do. Very much, in fact," she said after a moment. "Why?"

"Just a thought," he said, a hint of sadness marring his handsome voice. "Given a chance, would you go to Salem University immediately?"

"Yes, I have always dreamt of coming to Salem," she replied straightaway. She took a single look at Gomez and immediately realized the purpose of his questions. She smiled slightly. "But perhaps, not at the moment."

"When then?" he asked, the sadness still present in his voice.

She shrugged. "Next year, I suppose."

"Why, though?" he asked again in the same tone.

"Well, I cannot just go with you here, can I?" she replied, raising an eyebrow. He looked at her, and much like a Christmas tree, his face lit up.

"Really?"

"I think it would be splendid to have you accompany me, wouldn't it?" she smiled at him before standing on the tips of her toes to give him a kiss on the cheek. Before he could react on her statement or on her kiss, she turned around to enter the building for her next class.

"I suppose it would be," he agreed, stunned by the course of events.

* * *

"It would have been better if their deaths were more gruesome," Morticia was saying to Phoebe as they made their way out of their last class.

"It wouldn't have been romantic if Romeo and Juliet's deaths were gruesome," Phoebe contradicted.

"Oh, I suppose so. But really, the novel did not appeal to me," Morticia replied. "It was really quite imprudent to kill yourself because of the death of your lover."

"Was it, really?" Phoebe asked, frowning at Morticia. "Wouldn't you do that?"

"I believe so. My lover would not want me to lose my life because he lost his, would he?" Morticia answered. She adjusted her bag on her shoulder.

"I wouldn't know," Phoebe said, shrugging. She looked ahead and saw Gomez standing on the opposite end of the hallway. "But you would. You can ask _your _lover."

"What are you talking about?" Morticia asked, frowning and smiling in disbelief. "I do not have –"

"Don't you?" Phoebe questioned, nodding her head towards Gomez's direction. Morticia followed her gaze and smiled. "Don't you?" Phoebe repeated teasingly.

"Oh, shush, Phoebe," Morticia replied, smiling despite herself.

"Phone me, wouldn't you?" Phoebe requested as she started to walk away from Morticia and Gomez, who was approaching.

"In the dead of the night?" Morticia hissed.

"Yes," Phoebe nodded. "Unless you'd want to come over to my house?"

"I do not even know where you live," Morticia said, confused by her invitation.

"Call me then," Phoebe replied, waving merrily at Gomez through piercing glare.

"No choice then," Morticia murmured under her breath. She turned and smiled at Gomez, who just stepped in front of her. "Hello," she said.

"Hello," he replied, returning her smile. He nodded at the general direction where Phoebe disappeared into. "What was that about?"

"She just didn't want to interrupt," she answered.

"Oh, I brought this for you," he said, handing her a single long-stemmed red rose, not unlike what he gave to her earlier.

"Thank you," she replied. She took the rose and twirled it in her fingers. "But what for? You already gave me one just this morning."

"I know. But perhaps Nancy got hold of the first one," he said.

"Gomez, it's Natalie, not Nancy," she replied, laughing at him.

"It doesn't matter whether her name was Nancy or Natalie or Nadine." He shrugged. "All of those names are ghastly."

"Gomez!" she whispered, placing a hand on his chest for a gentle slap. She turned around and saw Natalie and her friends lurking nearby. "She is just in close proximity!"

"I do not really care, do I?" he whispered back, laughing at his audacity.

Morticia joined his laugh. She glanced again at Natalie and saw that she was sulking and glaring at them at the same time. "Come along, Gomez. I believe that Natalie might kill us with the murderous look she is giving us."

* * *

As promised, Morticia phoned Phoebe when she arrived home. Their conversation lasted for hours that Morticia went to bed several minutes before the roosters started crowing. It was quite a wonder then, when Morticia woke up only four hours after sleeping. She wanted very much to pull the covers over her head and return to sleep, however, she remembered the last conversation she had with Gomez the previous night – or she supposed it was earlier that day.

_"__Would it be alright if I come over to your house tomorrow morning?" Gomez asked as he helped her out of his car._

_ "__Of course," she replied. "May I ask why, though?"_

_ "__To take you out," he said._

_ "__Take me out?" she repeated, confused. "Just like today? I mean, yesterday? Or was that… oh, pardon me, I am now confused with the days."_

_ "__I believe right now is still the same day," he replied with a smile. "But yes, just like earlier today."_

_ "__Oh, I would very much enjoy that," she agreed, returning his smile. "Will you bring me to the cliff overlooking the landfill again?"_

_ "__No," he said as they climbed her house's porch. "But I would bring you to a better place."_

_ "__Where?" she asked a bit excitedly._

_ "__It is a surprise," he answered mysteriously._

_ "__I look forward to it," she said smiling._

_ "__So am I," he agreed, smiling also. He took her hand and planted a tender kiss on it. "Good night, Morticia."_

_She leaned towards him and kissed him on the cheek leaving him a mark of her lipstick, just like she did the night previously. "Good night."_

Smiling at the memory, she climbed out of the bed and started preparing for her early date with Gomez. Not too soon, she had bathed, dressed, and fixed her hair. She was putting the final touch of her make up when she heard a faint knock on the front door. The taps were in the rhythm she and Gomez agreed on the previous night, as not to wake up Ophelia from her slumber.

She stood up from her bureau to straighten and check on her clothes – a midnight blue with white collar and three-fourths sleeves smock that stopped just before her knees over black leather leggings and high-top navy blue Converse. Her usual braids sat neatly on her back and she donned her usual dark makeup, with matching silver single-studded earrings. Appreciating her getup, she took her bag and left her room.

"You look wonderful," was Gomez's greeting when she opened the front door.

"So do you," she replied with a shy smile. Then she added, "And good morning."

"Ah, yes," he said upon realizing that he had not truly greeted her. "Good morning as well, Morticia." He held out a hand in which she place hers over and he kissed her pristine hands.

"I feel underdressed whenever I am with you," Morticia commented as they made their way to Gomez's Duisenberg. He held out the car door as she entered.

"Why?" he asked. He ran to the driver's side and slipped in. He switched on the engine and drive away from Morticia's house. He repeated his question. "Why did you say that? You look wonderful, just like I've said just now."

"You are wearing a three-piece suit," she simply replied. "While I wear nothing but a child's smock. I should have worn a dress to match your suit."

"But I adore the clothes you don," he contradicted.

"Because I look like a child?" she suggested in a small voice.

"Because you look like no one else," he opposed. "You look like… you."

"I look like me?" she repeated, frowning in confusion. She stared at the window and watched the scenery changed from trees and occasional houses and apartments to flat, dead-looking expanse of land and dried grass. She did not notice to which direction he was driving, giving her no idea if they were driving to the back or otherwise of the campus. "Where are we going?"

"Yes, you look like you and no one else. And just like what I've said before your eyes, you stand out. I like that," he replied, completely ignoring her latter question. Instead, he continued driving.

"You are determined to continue flatter me, are you not?" she asked, peering at him as she tried to gauge his emotions. "Much like how you are determined to surprise me to where our destination is."

"Yes," he replied, briefly looking at her and giving her the most mysterious, yet boyish grin he could muster. He returned his eyes back on the road ahead. "There is no reason for me not to flatter you, for all that I say are true."

"I really am just not used by compliments," she murmured. She looked out of the window and saw that mist was forming as they drive on. The dried grasslands became abundant with dying and already dead trees. She looked around curiously. "I believe I have an idea where we are heading."

"Do you?" he asked. His voice sounded a bit off, as if he was disappointed that their journey's end would no longer be a surprise.

"I think so," she replied. "But I have never been in one. Mother did not allow us to go, nor did she and Father ever attend those occasions held in places like this."

"Really?" he asked sounding surprised. He reduced the speed of his car and parked near a big mahogany tree. He stepped out of the Duisenberg and went to Morticia's side to help her out. Then he opened the trunk of the car to retrieve the breakfast he brought, as well as the half dozen of thorny, long-stemmed, red roses, which he gave to her with a rather shy smile.

"Thank you," she said, sharing his shy smile. "You do not have to, you know."

"I know, but I want to," he replied, shifting the paper bag to his right hand so that she could offer his left to Morticia who took it without any hesitation. They threaded across the foggy and dead grassland until they reached a gate with an archway that read _Parker Cemetery_.

"We are still inside the campus then?" she asked as they paused to read the words on the archway.

"Technically, no," he answered, pushing the gate open. Loud scraping noise of metal grazing the hard pavement filled the eerily silent air. "This is a bit beyond the southern part of the campus, but this is the cemetery built by the founder of West Parker, Albert Parker."

"I suppose it was built _for _the campus?" she asked. They continued walking towards the heart of the cemetery, where a large monument of a grandiose man sitting candidly on a big piece of rock, another man, though younger, was standing imposingly next to the former. Gomez led her to a bench just beside the statue.

"It was," he agreed. He handed her a bullet tumbler and he took another one for his own consumption from the paper bag he brought. He also took a loaf of moldy bread. "Do you know the history of West Parker? Its gory past?"

"Thank you," she said as she took the tumbler from him. She took a sip and shook her head. "I knew that West Parker was established by Albert Parker in the 1860s, during the American Civil War. However, I have no idea that a cemetery was built for the university. I did not also know that West Parker had a dark history. Had I known, I would have been more enthusiastic to attend this school."

"Not all history books in the library stated the true history of West Parker," he said, also taking a sip of his coffee. He took a piece of bread and tore it into two, offering her the other half. "Have you not notice how the subject Parker History was only taught to senior students?"

"When I saw the curriculum, I never gave the subjects any notice," she replied, shrugging indifferently. "I was not really enthusiastic about coming here. Now that you mentioned it, why is Parker's history only being taught to senior students?"

"Because if they teach it to younger students, there is a great possibility that the students would leave the school," he answered. He shifted on his seat, tucking a leg underneath the other to face her. "But if they teach the university's history during the last semester of their college schooling, students would not have any choice but to continue since it would be a waste of fortune and time to go to another school with only a semester left."

"That bad?" she asked, not being able to hide her excitement. Perhaps knowing that the university she was in also has an interesting story to tell and knowing that the story was bleak, gave her the notion that she was, after all the hesitations and regrets, in a good school. She also turned to face him, her eyes bright with anticipation.

"You can say that," he replied, smiling at her enthusiasm. "I see that you look forward to knowing the story."

"Yes," she breathed, also smiling at him. "But how did you know about the history of West Parker? I believe that you are not yet on your last semester, are you?"

"No, I still have another semester to go," he said. He took a bite of the bread before continuing. "Next semester would be my last semester. However, my father, Alonzo Addams, who incidentally gave me my second name –"

"Your full name is Gomez Alonzo Addams?" she curiously interrupted. Realizing what she did, she smiled shyly at him and said, "Oh, sorry."

"Indeed, that is my full name," he said smiling at her to wave her embarrassment away.

"It is lovely," she softly said.

"Thank you," he replied. "So is your name."

She halted from sipping her henbane tea. "Do not tell me you know my full name, as well."

"But I do," he said smiling a guilty smile.

"Of course, why shouldn't you know?" she asked with a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

"Morticia Anaesthesia Frump. Beautiful name for a beautiful girl," he complimented again.

She smiled shyly before she cleared her throat. "Well… about your father?"

"Ah, yes," he said, suddenly remembering. He put down his coffee to take a cigar from his breast pocket. He huffed on it for a while before continuing. "My father was a professor in the university. And he thought it wise to tell me and Fester about the history of our future school as a bed time story."

"Your father sounded like a very interesting man," she commented.

"He was, he was," he agreed. For a moment, he looked sad. "It is sad that you have not the chance to meet him. He would've adored you."

Morticia placed a gentle hand over his. "But he is living inside you."

"I suppose." He sighed sadly. Then he puffed on his cigar and shook his head to clear his mind off some lonely recollection. "Pardon me," he whispered. "Anyway, Father would divide the history of West Parker into several chapters so that he would have a continuous story to tell Fester and I. He said that West Parker was truly built to become a morgue and cemetery of American soldiers who died during the war. But then there were too many dead soldiers, that Albert Parker alone could not embalm all of them. That was how West Parker became a school."

"West Parker was an embalming school?" she asked. She looked down and saw that she was still clasping his hand. She moved to pull it away but he resisted and held hers tighter. She looked up at him endearingly.

"Indeed," he said as he caressed the back of her hand. "It first started well. Until the government brought even the injured and dying soldiers here." He saw her frown with confusion. "Albert Parker knew about embalming, but not saving the lives of the living. He thought that both were the same thing."

"He embalmed the living?" she whispered. He shook his head grimly.

"If only he did that to spare the living from the excruciating pain. No. He experimented on the living, as he had no idea how to save lives," he found himself whispering. "He would cut them open to take away shrapnel and bullets inside the soldiers, but he took no care about their organs and veins. Most of them bled to death.

"When it finally dawned to him that the victims' organs and veins matter, he became a bit more careful."

"Why do you sound like that?" she asked. "If he was careful, shouldn't he have saved more lives?"

"Once he found out about the purpose of different organs, he… well, he spared them."

"Please tell me that by 'them' you mean the soldiers,"

"The organs."

Morticia gasped, she knew what he was not saying. He nodded sadly.

"I believe that Albert Parker was the basis of Mary Shelly's _Frankenstein_," Gomez said. "A number of corpses were experimented on, from limbs and other extremities, to organs such as eyes and hearts and livers, to skins of the soldiers, even the hides and tails of animals. He was unsuccessful, of course.

"What was more is that, Albert Parker thought that his experimentations were failing because the bodies he experimented on were dying or already dead…"

"And so he started killing his students," she supplied with a quiet voice.

"Yes."

"But then, what happened? How come West Parker is still open?"

"Albert Parker's experiments were kept silent for a very long time."

"Who kept them away from the public's knowledge?"

"His son, Albert Parker, Jr. He was a mad as his father when it comes to testing the limits of science, but he was more careful and very much ambitious. He embalmed the bodies of the soldiers for his father, but he kept their organs. He would have a funeral for the dead, inviting their families, even the government officials who could spare their time, but when they had all gone, he would have someone exhume the bodies and he would put them on his operating table, well, parts of them.

"When sober from their experimentations, Albert Parker, Sr. and Albert Parker, Jr. would teach rather excellently on willing students, who had no idea about their pet projects. That is until they were the ones to be experimented on. They were able to produce fine embalmers and as the years progressed, good doctors, who specialized in operations. Soon, they were able to heal the wounded, but of course, Albert Parker, Sr. and Jr. were the exceptions.

"Once the civil war was over, Albert Parker, Sr. was commended for his contribution to the society and granted him to establish a university. His son convinced him to offer other fields of knowledge in the university, to broaden the range of their human ventures."

"When was their secret revealed?" she asked with wide eyes.

"During the second World War," he replied. "The first and second World war was a boon for Albert Parker, Sr. and Jr., they would be able to do their experimentations again without raising any alarm. By the second World War, Albert Parker, Sr. was 83 years old and he succeeded in teaching his grandson, Theodore Parker about his expertise. The three of them then continued their crooked legacy.

"That was until Theodore decided to experiment on himself. Unfortunately, his then wife witnessed his family's doings. She ran amok from here and told everyone she could about what she saw. No one believed her, of course. But she decided that everyone must be aware and that the Parker family's experiments must be put into an end."

"She killed them then," she said with pride in her voice, finally understanding how the turn of events occurred. "And published the hidden history books."

"Yes," he replied, bemused by her intellect of putting the pieces together. "She then inherited the university. But she was a very ruthless, much like Albert Parker, Jr., but not in the same manner," he explained when he saw her raised eyebrow. "She wanted the glamor the university gave her; she was invited to distinguished parties and everything. And most of all, she was extremely rich. And so she told everyone that Albert Parker, Sr. died in his sleep and that Albert Parker, Jr., died in depression due to his father's death. She did not reveal the loss of her husband until six months later, when she claimed that he was terminally ill for the past months.

"She continued the operations of West Parker and herself taught the history of the university. Since then, the history became an open secret. A story nobody claims to be true but they know is true." He finished. "And now we must hurry, for your class is to begin in five minutes."

"Already?" she asked, flabbergasted. She does not notice the passing of time whenever she was with him. She was not even able to process the history of West Parker as she and Gomez practically ran back to the Duisenberg to catch her first class. He drove manically, while the both of them were silent, only stepping on the brake pedal when they reached the Literature Building. Morticia did not even have the time to kiss him goodbye, she merely waved as she hurried to her classroom.

"Professor Belch?" Natalie's voice rang out the moment Morticia appeared on the doorway.

"Yes?" Mr. Belch replied in a bored voice. His head was bent over a book, just like the rest of the class, with the exception of Natalie and her friends, and Phoebe who rolled her eyes at Morticia.

"Morticia Frump just arrived, Sir," Natalie said in an irritating sing-song voice. "We started fifteen minutes ago and she is late, from a date again, it would seem."

Mr. Belch raised his head and looked at Morticia then to the roses she was holding. He smiled at her kindly, "You may proceed to your seat, Ms. Frump." Then he turned to face Natalie. He spoke in a falsely nice voice, "And so she is. But I suppose that she knew all about what you are supposed to be reading, Ms. Peterson. This is why I advise you to continue reading and stop minding other people's lateness."

Morticia and Phoebe nearly burst out laughing. They avoided each other's eyes, in fear of erupting into a laughing fit. Morticia, however, was not able to stop herself from flashing a smile to Natalie and her friends as she passed by them, and showing off the roses Gomez gave her.

"Gomez?" Phoebe simply asked as Morticia settled down on her chair.

"Yes," Morticia answered. She took her book from her bag and put it on her table. "What page?"

"81," Phoebe replied, winking at Morticia.

When Morticia located the anecdote they were tasked to read, she smiled slyly back at Phoebe. "_A Date with the Banshee and the Witch _by Patricia Chills, huh?"

"Interesting," Phoebe commented. "But perhaps not as interesting as your date with Gomez?"

"Perhaps not," Morticia agreed. Then she whispered, "Later."

* * *

After Morticia's last class the same day, Gomez brought her to another diner, where they talked about their families. Both of them were rather reflecting when they went home. The next day, he took her to another enchanting and secluded part of the university. This time, it was in the forest, almost of walking distance from Morticia's house. He gave her a bouquet of a dozen, thorny, long-stemmed, red roses, before parting. And she was late again for her first class.

"Sir Belch –" Natalie began the moment she saw Morticia.

"Yes, Ms. Frump is indeed late again," Mr. Belch interrupted. His voice sounded like a mixture of boredom and irritation. "And yes, Ms. Frump has a bouquet of red roses again, which I must say are very lovely."

"Thank you, Professor Belch," Morticia said. "And I would like to apologize for my tardiness not just today but also for the previous days."

"Not to worry, my dear," Mr. Belch replied, smiling at her kindly, as if she did not arrive late. "You and Ms. Munster know all the lessons as much as I do, and small matters such as tardiness hardly be of importance given that you ace all the examinations I gave you. Please take your seat and resume reading the anecdote on page 81."

"Thank you, Professor Belch," she repeated. As she passed by Natalie table, she whispered. "Nice try."

During their free period, Morticia and Phoebe were huddled again under the same oak tree they were underneath the previous day and the day before that. They were discussing the report they were supposed to do about _A Date with the Banshee and the Witch_ when Ophelia arrived.

"Hello?" Ophelia greeted in a soft voice.

Morticia sighed and greeted in a grunt, "Hello, Ophelia."

"Hello, Ophelia," mimicked Phoebe, though with more enthusiasm.

"May I?" Ophelia asked, gesturing to the ground next to them.

"I suppose so," Phoebe replied while Morticia just shrugged.

Ophelia sat down facing the two of them. "Why are you so angry with me, Morticia?" she asked, hurt evident in her voice and her face. "All I said that night was how Christian and I made and ate a chocolate cake."

Morticia and Phoebe looked at each other in bewilderment.

"Chocolate cake?" Morticia repeated.

"Yes," Ophelia answered looking confused. "What did you think we did?"

Neither Morticia nor Phoebe answered. They shared another look and exploded into fits of uncontrollable laughter. Ophelia stared at them in surprise, more to her sister. "What?" she asked.

Neither responded coherently and continued laughing.

Even when Gomez arrived, the both of them were still guffawing and were practically rolling on the ground. He looked at Ophelia in bewilderment but all she could respond was a shrug.

"Morticia? Phoebe?" he called, trying to calm them down, but his effort was futile, they just laughed heartily. A few moments passed and their merriment reduced into giggles. With a gasp of air, they ceased.

"Oh, Gomez, hello," Morticia greeted. He reached out a hand to wipe away the tears that were streaking down her cheek. He also dusted her off, for her maroon, collarless smock was already covered with glades of grass. "Thank you."

"I must say that your laugh really is just delightful to hear," he said. He settled down next to her. "Though I wonder what cause you such glee."

"I would also like to know," Ophelia demanded.

Morticia looked at Phoebe and together, erupted to another fit of giggling. Morticia tried to speak in between of her giggling. "Ophelia… it with Christian… merely chocolate… cake!" She and Phoebe roared with laughter once more.

"Chocolate cake?" Gomez repeated with dawning realization. He faced Ophelia. "Did she say chocolate cake?"

"Yes, and what is wrong with that?" Ophelia asked irritably. And before her eyes, Gomez joined the other girls' chorus of laughter.

"What is going on?!" Ophelia cried out. Then she cried, "Morticia! Phoebe! Gomez!" She poked each of them in turns, but it was useless, they kept on laughing. "HEY!" she finally shouted, shushing them immediately.

"Yes?" Phoebe asked. She bit her lip to stop herself from laughing; Gomez copied her as Morticia placed a delicate hand over her mouth.

"What are you laughing about?!" Ophelia blurted out angrily. She glared at the three of them. "And don't you dare start laughing again!"

Morticia took several deep breaths and closed her eyes so that she would not see Phoebe or Gomez. "I thought that by 'it' you meant that you and Christian had sex," she explained. She heard Ophelia trying to stop herself from laughing. "Shush, Phoebe. Or Gomez and I will start laughing as well."

"I am already laughing," Gomez replied with laughter evident in his voice.

Morticia could feel his shoulders shaking. "Stop it!" she hissed, though she was also beginning to laugh. She addressed her sister immediately, "And, well, I told them. And now that you've said you only ate chocolate cake –" She was not even able to finish her sentence as she started laughing again.

"Oh, ha-ha, very funny," Ophelia commented dryly. She watched irritably as Morticia, Gomez, and Phoebe wholeheartedly laughed again. She waited rather impatiently until they stop, trying to catch their breaths, and holding a stitch on their side. "Done now?"

"Hardly," Gomez answered as he wiped his eyes with tears of laughter. He did the same to Morticia. "To think that your description was very rich."

"'We were sweating,'" Morticia quoted, shaking her head in disbelief.

"'The most delicious thing I've ever tasted,'" added Phoebe, who was lying on her back on the ground.

"'It was harder than I thought!'" Morticia and Phoebe said together before dissolving to another series of giggling.

"Ugh, I cannot believe you thought I did that, Morticia!" Ophelia cried. "And had I done anything in that likes of that, would I actually tell you?"

"Oh, but you were so mysterious and giddy, Ophelia," countered Morticia.

"You are insane,"

"Not more than you. You could've simply said 'We baked a cake!'"

"Speaking of chocolate cake," interrupted Phoebe before Ophelia could retort. "Morticia, do you remember that I suggested chocolate cake when you told me Ophelia and Christian did something?"

"Yes!" Morticia exclaimed. "Such coincidence, who would've thought that was what they really did." She turned to Gomez. "I apologize about that, Gomez, I hardly paid you any attention."

"It's alright," he said smiling at her. She smiled back. "I only dropped by to say that I won't be taking you out to dinner tonight and tomorrow, as well as to breakfast tomorrow."

Her smile faltered.

"I have exams tomorrow," he said, touching her chin with a gentle hand.

"Oh, I see," she replied. She gave him a small smile. "I shall review for my exams as well, then."

"Shall I see you then first thing during the weekend?" he suggested hopefully.

"Yes, please," she replied. He took her free hand and kissed it before leaving, not even bothering to bid Phoebe and Ophelia goodbye.

"Are you…?" Ophelia asked.

"No," Morticia answered.

"Just courting," Phoebe added with a knowing wink.

* * *

That night, Gomez could not resist going to Morticia's house. He was very much fed up with all the reviewing he was doing for the last few hours, not to mention the reviews he was having during his classes. Knowing perfectly that he won't be back until the dawn of the next day, he took his coat jacket to fetch his car keys and left for Morticia's house.

Just like the previous nights, he climbed up her balcony through the adjacent willow tree. He cautiously looked around to see if anyone saw him lurking and found no one. He then peered inside Morticia's room, which was of course, unlit. Different from the other nights, the curtain on her balcony door was parted, allowing him to have a direct view of Morticia in deep slumber.

He watched her sleep and let his thoughts wander. He recalled the conversations he had with her and realized how comfortable it was for him to divulge to her the darkest secret he had – what he did to the Amore twins and Fester. He recalled how surprise he was when she did not leave even after she heard the whole story of his sordid past.

He almost laughed at the memory following his full disclosure. Morticia was very certain that he would lose his head when he learned that she is a witch. Why would he? His cousins were almost like the living dead, he was not even sure if some of them were actually alive. And her friend, Phoebe, he was almost certain that she is banshee. But he could not ask her that, she might be offended. Perhaps, he would know somehow.

He remembered the times they embarrassed themselves to each other. Come to think of it, those times were mostly during the moments when they let slip their liking for each other. He stared back at her sleeping figure. Was there actually a time where he expressed more than his liking for her? He thought hard.

_This is not really how I imagined myself professing my love for you, Morticia._

He almost stopped breathing. He did not say that to her, did he? He tortured his mind to remember the exact incidence and recalled, with a deadened feeling, that he indeed said those words to her. Perhaps she did not notice. Of course she did, she is rather a highly intellectual girl, very much unlike the people he had ever met.

Leaning closely to the balcony door so as to be as close as he could to her, he examined what he said days ago. Did he really already love her? He gazed to her beautiful face and tried to imagine in what state could he have been had she not appeared. He tried to picture his life without her presence, but it was hard. It felt as if a huge chunk of him was Morticia. He could not even visualize being without her.

Perhaps, had she not come, he would have been kicked out from his college. Or perhaps, it would not have come to that, he would voluntarily leave. But go where? For sure he would search for Fester. But the idea of finding Fester is like looking for someone while being blind. He did not even have faith to himself. But Morticia does.

She made him forgive himself, lifted the burden from his shoulders. He still felt guilty, but not as sunken in the guilt as before. He managed to get a life. Morticia made him see what other people call as the ray of hope.

He stared at her again and thought, at the same time, what he previously let slip. It jolted him. In an instant, he jumped off Morticia's balcony, started his car, and left her house. He was afraid. He has truly fallen in love with her.

* * *

"Morticia?" Ophelia called. She was in the kitchen, preparing dinner for her, Morticia, Phoebe, Christian, and Elizabeth. It was Saturday, the day Gomez promised to see Morticia first thing in the morning. But he did not come. She was quite upset about it, which was why Ophelia invited Phoebe and Elizabeth over. Ophelia and Christian were supposed to have a date out of town, but she could not leave her sister looking so depressed.

"Morticia?" Ophelia called again. "Where is she?"

"I will check up on her," Phoebe suggested. She stood up from the couch in the living room where she was previously speaking with Elizabeth and went to the second floor to console her friend. She knocked her door. "Morticia?"

Morticia did not respond, so instead, Phoebe opened the door to see her lying on her bed, looking nothing more than a corpse inside her coffin.

"What are you doing?" she asked, sitting down next to her. Morticia gave her an almost nonexistent shrug. "Come downstairs, won't you? Elizabeth is worried."

"I am worried," Morticia replied in an inaudible voice.

"Perhaps he is busy," Phoebe suggested.

"With what?"

"I do not know, studying, perhaps?"

"Examinations were done yesterday,"

"Other things then,"

"He won't look for his brother until the Easter break,"

"What?"

"His lost brother. He won't look for him until the Easter break."

"I see…"

"Then what could he be busy with?"

"Why don't you call him?"

"I do not know his home number."

"Let us go to his place, then."

"I do not know where he lives."

"For goodness sake, Morticia, he knows where you live!"

"He stalked me."

"Morticia! Pull yourself together, will you?" Phoebe cried as she was out of patience. She jumped onto her feet. Morticia blinked up at her. "What are you so miserable about?"

"He did not come as promised," Morticia simply said with the slightest shrug.

"And so?" Phoebe asked exasperatedly. "Since when were you very much dependent?"

Morticia sat up. "I like him, Phoebe."

"Darling, I know that already," Phoebe replied, deciding that softening her tone would reap better results from her friend. She sat down again on her bed.

"No, you misunderstood me, Phoebe," Morticia insisted. "I _like _him, _very much_."

* * *

The following day was no better than the previous night. At least the previous night, Phoebe was able to persuade Morticia to come down to the dining room and eat. She usually eats small portions, and on that night, she hardly ate anything. The following day, no one could even _speak _to Morticia.

She lay on her bed, supine, just staring up on the ceiling. She did not touch the tea Ophelia gave to her, nor did she even stand up to just go to the bathroom. Ophelia knew this because Phoebe, who was very much worried with the way Morticia was behaving and spent the night inside the guest room, kept tabs about Morticia.

"Had she closed her eyes, she would have truly looked like a corpse," Phoebe said on her fifth reporting to Ophelia.

"Oh, this is just wonderful," Ophelia replied sarcastically. "Where on earth is that Gomez? He promised to meet Morticia and just decided not to."

"There must be some reason," Phoebe said.

"Oh, do not give him excuses," Ophelia snapped.

"Perhaps I am, but Morticia must regain her senses," countered Phoebe. "Yes, she might like him, but for heaven's sake, he is just a man."

"Tell her that," Ophelia suggested.

"You perfectly know I could not," Phoebe said, sounding defeated. She stomped her foot in irritation "Oh! I will kill Gomez when I see him!"

* * *

Of course, it did not go amiss Natalie and her friends when Morticia arrived ahead of them in their first period, looking glum and rose-less. It was the third day she did not carry a rose, but this was the first time they saw her so bleak. Even Mr. Belch noticed Morticia's inactivity, but he did not bother highlighting it for the class. Instead, he resumed his teaching duties and making the class read, just to give his best student silence.

On the period after their free hour, Natalie bounced to the classroom holding a bouquet of two dozens of red roses. She was showing it off to those who care, which basically constituted her four friends and a handful of other students. Her voice was loud and boisterous.

"… Addams gave them to me just before the free period ended. He is very sweet, isn't he?" Phoebe overheard her saying. She was ahead of Morticia and decided against letting her hear whatever Natalie was saying, whether true or otherwise. She pulled her away and tried to bring her to the other doorway leading to the room, but Morticia was stubborn, as she was the past few days.

She entered the classroom just in time to hear Natalie say, "Gomez and I started seeing each other just this Saturday. Well, technically, Friday night-turned-Saturday morning. During dinner that Friday, he gave me a single stemmed red rose. The following day, it was half dozen roses. Yesterday, he surprised me with a dozen of red roses, and today this! He just sent this through a delivery man. He was so tired of our adventure last night to the beach that he overslept!"

"Isn't it sweet for him to send her roses even when he is dead tired?" Natalie's gay friend added. He saw Morticia staring at them and whispered something to Natalie, who also looked at Morticia's direction.

She walked to where Morticia was. "Gomez Addams is very sweet, isn't he, Morticia?" she asked with false kindness.

"I suppose he is," Morticia replied softly. She eyed the roses Natalie was holding. She noticed the betrayed look in her eyes.

"Do you like my roses, Morticia?" Natalie asked, retaining the phony benevolence she previously used. She leaned casually to Morticia's ear and whispered, "I guess the flavor of the month already changed."

Morticia stared at Natalie as she stood imposingly in front of her. She watched Natalie observe her reactions. Morticia very much wanted to stand as confident as Natalie was, she wanted her to feel as if the news of Gomez Addams giving her roses did not matter, she wanted everyone to think that she was not hurting; but she just cannot, in fact, she was numb. With a gasp to prevent herself from breaking down in front of everyone, especially Natalie and her friends, Morticia ran away.

She bumped onto Phoebe who intended to pull Morticia away from Natalie. Phoebe opened her mouth to speak but abruptly stopped at the sight of Morticia, she looked lost and emotionless. It was as if she had entered an impermeable wall. Instead, she glared pointedly at Natalie, who responded with a smug and triumphant smile, before rushing after her brokenhearted friend.

"Phoebe, please don't," Morticia said as she continued to run away. Her voice was dead.

"But –" Phoebe began, to which Morticia interrupted. She faced her.

"Phoebe, please," she begged, still with lifeless voice. She could not feel anything at all. "I need… I want to be alone."

Phoebe rushed to Morticia and embraced her. She held her tight. "Oh, darling," Phoebe murmured in Morticia's hair. However, Morticia remained emotionless. She did not move to hug Phoebe back. Finally, her friend let her go and without another word, she left.

"Oh, Gomez Addams, I will kill you!" Phoebe shouted to no one in particular. She stomped back to her class, fuming.

* * *

After her last class, Phoebe stood from her seat the moment their substitute professor stepped out of the classroom, for she could not stand the sight of Natalie gloating over her demented roses. As she passed Natalie's table, she purposely bumped onto the former's table, causing the roses to fall on the floor. Then, Phoebe stepped on the roses.

"Oh, dear!" she exclaimed sounding very sarcastic. "I am very sorry, Natalie! I did not notice that your roses were there." She smiled mockingly at her, stomped the roses again, before finally leaving. She intended to search for Ophelia, but it seemed that she was also meaning to do the same to her, as they nearly collided on Phoebe's way out of the building.

"Oh, Phoebe, there you are!" Ophelia exclaimed at the same time Phoebe said, "I was just about to look for you, Ophelia."

"Why?" they asked in unison.

"Morticia," they answered together. They sighed.

"Come, let's not talk here, Natalie might see us and gloat even more," Phoebe said. She steered Ophelia to the opposite direction where she knew Natalie and her friends would be heading, as she does everyday. They started walking along a canopied path of big trees.

"Why is she not with you?" Ophelia asked, suddenly realizing that they were not accompanied by Morticia.

"She ran away," Phoebe answered. She sighed again.

"Ran away? Why?"

"After the break, Natalie came to our next class holding a bouquet of red roses and practically shouting to everyone that Gomez gave them to her."

"Gomez? As in Gomez Addams?"

"Ophelia, how many Gomez do you know?"

"I was just… but why would he do that?"

"No idea,"

Ophelia growled in anger. "I will kill him! I really will!" she paused to look ahead of them and saw a familiar male figure coming their way, half-hidden in the shadows. "Ah! Speaking of the devil!" She held Phoebe's hand and together, they marched towards Gomez, who looked alarmed at the sight of them.

"Gomez!" they shouted in unison.

"Ophelia. Phoebe," he greeted back, though rather nervously.

"Are you not wondering where Morticia is?" Ophelia asked accusingly.

"Ah… well…" he began but Phoebe cut in.

"Because we are," she said, fighting to keep her voice low. "We thought she was with you."

"Well…" he began again and this time, Ophelia interrupted.

"You were supposed to meet her last Saturday, were you not?"

"But you did not come," Phoebe said bitterly. "We thought that perhaps, today would be different."

"And we were right!" Ophelia cut in with false cheerfulness in her voice. Then she added with a poisonous tone, "Today is indeed a different day."

"_Very _different," Phoebe agreed. "Well?" she demanded.

"Explanation. Now," Ophelia explained exasperatedly as Gomez looked at them in bewilderment.

"Well, I had a thing –" Gomez started hesitantly.

"With Natalie, I see," Ophelia suddenly blurted out for she could not contain her anger anymore. Phoebe put a restraining hand on Ophelia's shoulder.

"Who?" he asked, totally confused.

"Oh, do not be a coy, Gomez," Phoebe almost growled in fury. The hairs on Gomez's arms and nape prickled.

"That was why you did not meet Morticia last Saturday, wasn't it?" Ophelia asked. She took a step towards Gomez, who by some unknown reason, cowered at her presence.

"And you gave her roses, too," Phoebe added. She also took a step closer to Gomez. He cowered even more.

"Who…? How…?" he mumbled. He took a step back, but they advanced still.

"I saw it!" Phoebe nearly cried. Gomez visibly shivered upon hearing her voice. She closed her eyes and tried to calm down. When she looked back at him again, her eyes were livid but her face was serene, so was her voice when she spoke. "Natalie was holding two dozens of red roses. She claimed that you gave it to her. And that you started seeing her on Friday night."

"What?!" he cried in outrage. He threw his hands in the air, clearly frustrated. "Why had she just not shut her mouth?"

"Why, is that what you asked her to do?" Ophelia questioned.

"No!" he cried indignantly.

"Are you saying that you do converse with her?" she further asked.

"No!"

"But with the way you are speaking, you do not seem to deny it!"

"I am denying it! Why won't you believe me?"

"Why should we?"

Gomez was quiet. He had no answer to that question.

Phoebe huffed. "Come on, Ophelia, let us just find where Morticia is. We are just wasting our time with this man." She took Ophelia by the elbow and steered her away.

"How did she look like?" Ophelia asked, changing tack and completely ignoring Gomez, just like what Phoebe was doing. They were walking slowly and he could catch everything that they were saying.

"Like a zombie," Phoebe admitted sadly. "She looked at me – I am not even sure if she actually saw me. What, with dead eyes and impassive face? I tried to console her but she did not respond. It felt as if –"

"As if she entered an invisible shell, so farther back that you cannot reach her?" Ophelia supplied in a quiet voice. She looked definitely morose, even her daisies seemed to droop.

"Yes…" Phoebe breathed. "Has she… has she done this before?" She closed her eyes, bracing herself for Ophelia's response.

Ophelia just nodded quietly. "When Mother first pushed her away from her life."

Gomez hung his head. He knew how much pain Morticia was in because of her mother, and now, he caused her the same pain. He raised his eyes slightly to watch Phoebe and Ophelia walk away from him, still speaking with each other. He wanted to know what they were talking about, but at the same time, he didn't. He was afraid of what he might hear.

One thing was clear in his mind, though: Gomez, no matter how unintentionally, broke the heart of the woman he deeply loves.

* * *

After searching the whole campus, Gomez entered his Duisenberg and drove to the very last place he wanted to be caught at, yet the very place he wished to be at – Morticia's house. He wanted to apologize for what he did. He wanted to hold. He wanted to tell her how much feelings he has for her. But he was too coward. Too coward for the uncertainty. Still, he effortlessly climbed the willow tree to the second floor balcony.

He knelt in front of the closed balcony door to Morticia's bedroom, rested his head on the glass of the door, and silently apologized. He was too absorbed with what he was feeling and what he truly wanted to do conflicting what he felt he needed to do, that he did not notice Morticia was not in her bed. Instead, she was standing on the end of the balcony, facing away from him, and reflecting as well.

She did not notice that tears were silently streaming down her cheeks, nor did she notice Gomez climbing onto her balcony. She sniffed and realized that she was crying. And so she brushed her tears away using the back of her hand. That was when she noted a movement from behind her. She turned around and saw Gomez kneeling by her door.

Despite the hurt she was feeling, she could not help but feel as if something lit up within her by the sight of him. She almost smiled and touched him. But then, a voice inside her head reminded her of her misery and who caused it. She lost her smile and she turned icy again.

"What are you doing here?" she asked in a low voice.

Her question felt like a punch on Gomez's gut. He could hear the pain of betrayal and the hurt in her voice. But it was the coldness that truly wounded him. He stood up and moved closer to her, arms outstretched to touch her.

"Don't," she said, retaining the coldness that hurt every inch of Gomez. "What are you doing here?" she repeated. She raised her eyes to look at him and he nearly cried out. Hey eyes were raw, just like they were when she told him about her mother. The impact of what he did, or what he failed to do, kicked him hard.

"I came to see you," he said quietly. He reached out in his suit jacket to get a cigar but she stopped him.

"Do not smoke here," she said coldly. "I do not want to be reminded of your presence when you had gone. Did you come to finally tell me that you are seeing Natalie?"

"I am not seeing Natasha," he began.

"Stop it, Gomez," she quietly said. Gomez wished she had shouted, because the quietness in her voice was too painful. "You perfectly know that her name is Natalie, not Nancy, not Natasha, and most certainly not Morticia."

"I know that, you are Morticia," he cut in. He reached out a hand, but she slapped it away.

"I told you, Gomez, do not," she said. "And please, stop trying to flatter me. It won't work anymore."

"I am _not_, nor have I ever, saw Natalia," he insisted exasperatedly.

"Gomez, how many times do I have to tell you, to implore you, to call her by her name?" she asked, frustrated. "You have fooled me once that you do not know who she was, but you cannot fool me again through that stunt."

"Morticia, I am not fooling you," he insisted. "Why should I?"

"Why should you not?" she retorted. She raised an eyebrow accusingly. "What made me different from the Amore twins?"

"No, Morticia, please no," he begged. He stepped closer to her. She stepped back.

"You were seeing her, Gomez."

"I am not, Morticia, believe me."

"Of course you would say that," she scoffed. "But I do not see the point. Are you not satisfied with her that you wish to waddle in two quicksands?"

"Of course I am not satisfied with her –"

"Finally, the truth from you,"

"– because I only want to be with you."

"Nonsense. She said that you were seeing each other since Friday."

"That is not true."

"You said you will see me on Saturday morning, yet you did not come."

"I was…"

"You gave Natalie roses," she added quietly. It seemed to Gomez that of everything that he had supposedly done, the roses were the one that hurt her most. She seemed to have anchored the emotions she was feeling to the evidence Natalie presented.

"I didn't."

"I see no purpose with further speaking with you." She started to leave. Her hands were on the knob of the balcony door when he spoke.

"If I am seeing her, then why do I come here since Thursday night to watch you sleep and return home the following dawn with rarely a wink for sleep?" he finally asked. After saying this, he immediately felt nervous – he was already divulging his true emotions for her and he could not do anything to stop it.

Morticia let go of the door knob. She slowly turned around and faced him. "You watch me sleep?" she asked, frowning at him strangely.

"Yes," he replied. His voice mirrored hers, quiet.

"Why do you do that?" she asked but he did not reply right away. She repeated her question. "Why do you watch me sleep?"

"I just like to," he answered. "I have been watching you sleep for a long time…" he sighed and decided to tell her the truth of his absence. "The day I last saw you, when I said that I would be reviewing for my examinations, I did review. When the night came, I had to see you, and I did. And… and I realized… realized that I…" he sighed again. "And I got scared. Call me coward, but I was afraid. I have not felt that feeling before. I do not know how to… how to… I… and I do not want to have another Amore twins incident… but ironically, it had already happened.

"I had to get away to sort my emotions. I thought that if I leave, my feelings would have somehow waned. I was scared, I _am _scared. I tried to stay away, but I couldn't. I just had to… and so I watch you sleep… every night. And…"

"I do not understand,"

He looked straight into her eyes. "I have fallen in love with you, Morticia."

She did not respond right away. "What are you afraid of?"

"Of returning to how I was. Of the possibility of hurting you like I did to the Amore twins…"

She stepped closer to him. "But by turning away from me have hurt me."

"I know, I know," he murmured with his head hung low. She lifted his head by using her slender forefinger to push his chin up.

"You do not have to be afraid," she whispered. Then she shook her head. "No, you do not have to be afraid _alone_."

He looked at her and understood what she meant. "But I am coward."

She shrugged nonchalantly. "I like coward men," she whispered. They laughed together.

"I like the sound of your laugh," he murmured to her as he placed his hand on her waist to pull her closer. He tucked her hair behind her ear. It was not until then when he saw that her hair was not its usual braids. "I like your hair like this."

"I won't wear it any other way, then,"

"Just for me?"

"Just for you," she replied. She bowed her head so that their foreheads met. "And you know, your stalking tendencies have no boundaries."

He smiled and pulled her even closer. She put her arms over his shoulders. They inched closer to each other.

"Is this a yes?" he asked softly, pulling away.

Morticia rolled her eyes. "You have not asked me yet."

"Right," he replied, scrunching his face up for his forgetfulness. "And now I ask you, will you be my –?"

"I thought you'd never ask," she breathed.

"But you did not let me finish," he said, pouting slightly. She laughed at the sight of him.

"Perhaps I want a different ending," she whispered with a shy smile. He smiled back with his signature boyish grin.

"That, I can do," he whispered back. He pushed her chin up to level with his. Their lips met.

"Ti amo, cara mia," Gomez found himself saying.

* * *

**End of Chapter 10. I hope you enjoyed it! Please do not forget to review!**

**I do not know when Chapter 11 would be available, since I haven't started writing it yet, though I already have an outline. The safest estimate for Chapter 11 to be completed is a month, sorry! But I will try to finish it early, though, no promises! As teaser, Chapter 11 would be about the first time Morticia and Mrs. Addams meet. If you have suggestions, let me know. **

**Thank you! :D**


	11. Chapter 11: Blessings

**Hello guys! As promised, here is Chapter 11! This was supposed to be titled "Meeting Mrs. Addams" but as I was writing this chapter, I realized that if I expanded the first meeting of Morticia and Mrs. Addams, the chapter would be super long. To be begin with, the chapter is already long so I shortened the first meeting, but it is still meaty. Enjoy!**

* * *

Quite suddenly, Morticia pulled away from their kiss. She gently pushed Gomez away and took a step back from him. She hugged herself to prevent any contact between the two of them.

"Cara mia?" Gomez asked confused, closing the gap between them, but she took several steps back, intent on keeping her distance. "What have I done?"

She mumbled something so softly that he did not hear her. "I didn't catch that, Morticia," he said, still unsure why Morticia, who seemed delighted to be his lover just a few moments ago, was now shying away from him like he carried some contagious disease.

"You gave Natalie roses," she whispered, quite more audibly this time, but still he did not understand what she said. Looking down to her feet, she took another nervous step back and almost fell from the balcony, had Gomez not rushed to her aid.

"You cannot die yet," he softly said, holding her tight and close to his muscular arms.

"Please let go," Morticia asked, ignoring the fluttering of her heart as she felt his strong arms around her. She also ignored her desire to collapse in his arms and ventured to the other side of the balcony. "And please do not come near me."

"Is there something wrong?" he asked, still trying to fathom why she was suddenly feeling distant. His skin was begging to feel her, but he respected her request and stayed on his side of the balcony. "Please tell me what's wrong, my love."

"You gave Natalie roses," she repeated, her voice still soft but a bit louder. She looked down on her knitted hands, trying to hide her jealousy.

"I didn't," Gomez simply replied, realizing where Morticia was coming from. He knew how it felt to be jealous, as he was green-eyed when he saw her affection towards her sister's beau.

"But she showed the roses to me, Gomez," she whispered. "They were red."

"Were they long stemmed?" he asked, taking a single discreet step forward.

"I do not know… maybe not?" she answered, still not looking at him.

"Where the roses thorny?" he asked stepping forward still.

"I do not know, I have not seen them up close."

"Were they in full bloom?"

"I do not know… I just saw that they were red." Her head shot up and she was surprised to see him standing just a foot away from her. She sighed. "What does it matter, anyway? She said you gave her roses."

"It hurts me that you believe in her and not in me," he replied. He reached out a hand, which Morticia dodged, thinking that he was reaching out for her, and broke a branch from the willow tree behind her. He perched on the balcony railing, pulled up one of his pants leg, and positioned the branch on his skin.

Morticia's eyes grew in surprise. She raised a hand to stop him. "Gomez! What are you –?" But it was too late. Gomez had already sunk the jagged point of the branch on his skin and carved something on his left leg. Blood rose quickly and flowed down his leg as he hissed in pain.

Gasping, she ran inside her room and returned holding a cloth and a small bottle of gin. "I do not understand what you are trying to do, Gomez," she scolded kneeling on the floor in front of him. "Hold the hem of your pants."

Looking quite amused, he did what was told as she, despite her sudden anger marred with jealousy, gently dabbed his wound with the cloth. She pressed down on the wound. He hissed again in pain.

"Don't you dare do that, you cut yourself on purpose," she said, her voice biting with angst that made him recoil. She lifted her hand, and for a second, just before blood flowed out again, she saw a crude MF violently and deeply carved on his leg. She looked up at him, eyes abandoning their murderous look, completely ignoring the flowing blood soaking the hem of her dress. "What…?"

"You won't believe me when I said I did not give Natalie flowers," he said shrugging nonchalantly, as if what he did was perfectly normal.

"But…" she tried to reason out. However, his bravery or irrationality bordering to stupidity, left her speechless. It was not until her hand accidentally touched his leg when she realized that his blood was flowing like a river. She immediately wiped the blood off and poured gin on the dry part of the cloth. As gently as she could, she pressed the gin-soaked cloth over his deep cut.

He hissed loudly. "Maybe it was not a good idea," he whispered through gritted teeth.

"Maybe it wasn't," she agreed softly, pressing harder on the wound. "But I think what you did was –"

"Sweet?" he asked, smiling at her.

She scowled. "–quite stupid," she finished. A ghost of a smile was visible despite her frown. She stared hard on him. "And you cannot actually just expect me to let you bleed. Here, hold this." She let go of the sticky cloth and let him pressed it down on his wound. She stood up and returned to her room to get another cloth.

"But I thought you like pain," he called out.

"I do," she agreed as she went back to him. Besides the extra cloth, she was folding some medical adhesive and a roll of gauze. She poured generous amount of gin on the cloth and replaced the one already soaked with blood with it. "But I would rather inflict it on a person rather than see the person cut himself up. We have to keep your leg elevated, if not you will just continue bleeding. If you could just stand up using your other leg." She stood by his side to assist him.

Together, they hobbled onto the floor by her balcony window and slid down to sit on the floor. She left him for a while and returned with pillows for him to prop his leg up.

"Thank you, Dr. Frump," he chided as he settled comfortably. Morticia was about to go back to her room to return her supplies when Gomez held her hand to stop her. "Stay."

She stared blankly at him, confused with his sudden dependence on her. She opened her mouth to say something but he interrupted her, "Please?"

She frowned slightly, though more amused than irritated. "You are becoming quite dependent… or as people nowadays say, clingy. I did not know that a carve on the leg could cause such distress, Gomez."

Gomez smiled, caressing her hand in his. "I only want to be with you."

"I am with you, Gomez," she countered softly. "I will just be returning my supplies inside my room. You are in my balcony, for goodness's sake, how near should we be with each other?"

"_Very _near," he whispered. He tugged her hand, forcing her to crouch down on the floor beside him. "Besides," he interrupted when he saw her opening her mouth to contradict. "You might need to clean my wound again. Too much effort does not sit well on you."

Morticia scoffed gracefully, as she settled on the floor, trying to be as comfortable as she could on the hard wood. "Are you actually expecting me to be your slave, Gomez?"

"I would not call cleaning my wound 'enslavement,' my love," he replied, grinning rather foolishly at her. She tried frowning again at him but could not stop the hesitant smile spreading on her lips. Instead, she merely raised an amused eyebrow at him. He grinned, if it was even possible, even wider.

Gomez studied his elevated leg. The blood was still rising and was already tinting the wound's dressing. Oddly enough, the Morticia's initials, 'M.F.', were slowly forming on the dressing as the blood continued to rise.

"Something is missing," he said, still scrutinizing his leg.

"Goodness, Gomez!" she softly interjected. She stared at him with wide eyes, shocked. "Do not tell me you are intending to wound yourself again."

"Perhaps not at the moment," he replied, somehow oblivious of her disbelief.

"You are intending to carve something on your leg, then?" she asked.

"I should have added an 'A' here," he said, absently ignoring her question.

She shifted closer to him and looked at his leg. "I would rather not have you inflict further paint onto yourself, Gomez," she said, her voice sounding stern. "But I would have to agree that my middle name Anaesthesia is missing."

"Not Anaesthesia," he shortly replied. "Addams."

Morticia opened her mouth to respond, but abruptly stopped as she understood what he meant. She stared at him blankly, unable to completely process what he said and unsure how to properly react. Realizing that her mouth was hanging open, she closed it and swallowed hard.

"Do not be coy, Gomez, it does not suit you," she finally said, trying to look nonchalant, but failing.

"But I am serious!" he insisted. He stared deep into her eyes and added, "Addams suit you more than Frump."

"Gomez!" she almost whine. She gently slapped her shoulder. "I told you, do not be coy because it does not suit you!" She stood up, carrying her medical supplies, to return to her room. But before she could take a single step, Gomez caught a glimpse of the tiniest blush on her cheek. Well, at least, her cheek looked less pale.

"Morticia, don't leave?" Gomez almost pleaded. She looked back down at him and saw that he was indeed serious about his request of her not leaving. As much as she wanted to sit beside him right that very moment, she knew that she must act as if she felt otherwise. She must not be easy to get; otherwise, Gomez would be in the upper hand of their relationship. That was not what she had in mind.

Fighting the urge to cuddle beside him, she continued walking into her room, only leaving him with a playful wink. He laughed as she disappeared in her room. He settled on his rather uncomfortable position on the floor and waited for her to return, which she did only a few moments later.

Despite his bleeding wound, he gallantly held out a hand to assist her crouch down beside him. She took his proffered hand and carefully tucked her legs underneath her, inching closer to him.

"Morticia?" Gomez whispered.

"Hmm?" she replied, resting her head on his shoulder.

"What are your plans?" he asked, titling his head to rest on top of hers.

"Plans for what?"

"For your future. After finishing college."

She frowned slightly and remained silent. She had not given her future a thought. "I… I do not know," she admitted in a quiet voice.

He shifted from his seat to face her. He looked rather shocked at her response. "You do not have plans? But why?"

She studied his face, trying to understand his sudden curiosity about the future and shrugged. "I never plan. Well, I never thought of planning," she said. Then she raised her eyes to meet his. "Do you?"

"Before I didn't, but now I do," he replied. His eyes were soft as he looked very endearingly at her. "How come you do not know how you want to be?"

"My mother was very positive that I will not go anywhere," she whispered, looking down at her hands on her lap. "She repeatedly made me feel that if I will not lose my interest in witchcraft and the dark arts, I will never become anyone worthy."

"I'm sorry, Morticia…" he said. He moved closer to her and locked her in a loving embrace. She buried her head on his shoulder and wrapped her arms around him. "But things are different now, aren't they?"

"Yes, now there is someone who will always be there for me," she replied, smiling up at him. "Thank you."

He kissed the top of her head in reply.

"But I would still want to go to Transylvania,"

"When?"

"After graduation…"

"Oh…" was his only response. He did not let go of her, but he seemed aloof. She searched his face for some reaction, but he remained quite blank.

"Gomez?" She searched his face for some reaction, but he remained quite blank.

"Yes?" he asked, however, he stared away from her, even beyond the willow tree in front of the balcony.

"Are you mad?"

"No, not mad."

"What then?"

"Sad…"

"Sad?" she repeated, shocked. Of all the things he would respond, sadness was not one of the things she expected to hear from him. She straightened up, placed both of her hands on his either cheek, and forced him to look at her. "Please look at me, Gomez."

Reluctantly, he did. In his eyes, Morticia saw that he was indeed morose. "But why are you sad, Gomez? I do not understand."

He shrugged. He tried to appear nonchalant but failed miserably. "I was just not expecting you to go so soon."

She smiled slightly. "But, darling, I would rather not call three and half years from now, 'soon'."

"That is soon," he insisted stubbornly.

Her smile grew. "Your stubbornness makes you more charming, darling. Three and half years is not soon. I believe you are overthinking. We are in a relationship for barely an hour, yet you are already thinking about me leaving. Besides, you will be the one to leave first."

He frowned, unable to comprehend what she was implying.

"You are graduating next year," she said by way of explanation. "I highly doubt that you will remain in the campus even after you graduated."

Gomez remained silent.

"Alright, then, if you choose to be like that," she said teasingly. Raising an eyebrow as if to challenge him, she shifted away from him and pulled her knees close to her chest. She propped her chin on her knees and stared ahead, ignoring him, as he was to her. A strong night breeze blew and she slightly shivered, yet she chose to still ignore him.

He, however, noted her chill. Despite his stubbornness on the matter to happen in three and half years, he knew she had proven her point better than him. He glanced at her and saw that she was only wearing a thin, black, floor length lace robe, over her black, also floor length silk nightgown. It was not until then, that Gomez noticed that Morticia was barefoot.

"You look cold," he softly said, then shook his head upon realizing the stupidity of his statement. "That is not the most brilliant thing to say."

She looked at him with a raised eyebrow, feigning surprise. "Oh, so you are speaking to me again?" Another cold breeze blew in making her shiver visibly.

Instead of replying, he removed his suit jacket and laid it on her shoulders. "I'm sorry, my love," he finally said, looking very much sheepish.

She chuckled at the sight of him. "This is very gentlemanly of you," she said tugging his coat on her shoulders. "But you would be cold without it."

"I will be fine," he insisted. A stronger wind came, it was more than a breeze, and he shuddered.

"Will you be really?" she asked, laughing at him. She removed his coat and returned it to him.

"Let's share," he suggested. They both looked at the coat and realized that they could not share it at all. She laughed again.

"I will get a blanket," she said. She moved to stand but he stopped her by pulling her hand. She looked at him lovingly. "Darling, I will be back."

"I'd rather be cold than be without you for a second," he said.

She smiled. "I have seen that in a movie. Apparently, the male protagonist died in hypothermia."

"You watched _Titanic_?" he asked incredulously. His eyes were wide in surprise; he never thought she would watch that film. It was too corny!

"It was a school requirement," she said, defending herself. "And I would assume you also watched the film, given that a simple statement made you jump into the conclusion that the film I was talking about was _Titanic_."

He laughed richly. "You got me there, my love. It was also, a school requirement." He changed tack when he observed that she was intent on going back inside her room. "Honestly, Morticia, do not go away."

"But my room is just a few steps away, Gomez," she insisted.

"Let me die in hypothermia then, because I won't let go,"

She sighed, defeated by his hard headedness. "Alright, alright," she said. She picked up the jacket on the floor and wrapped it on his shoulders. He opened his mouth to contradict but she gave him a stern look that made him close his mouth and swallow hard. "Good," she commented. Then, she adjusted the pillows underneath his wounded leg and settled in between his thighs, resting her back on his chest. "Better?"

"Better," he agreed, handing her the sleeves of her jacket to put her cold hands into, before wrapping her in his arms. "But I do not get to see your face."

"Of course, you could," she disagreed. She swiveled her head to peek at him. "See?"

"Alright then," he fully agreed with a big smile.

"You seem to like _Titanic_, Gomez," she chided. "You just mentioned its most famous line."

"Which one, 'Alright then?'"

"I told you, Gomez, coy does not suit you,"

"I never liked that movie. It's just that by some hideous reason, Rose's ever repeating line was stuck to me like some bacterial glue." He grunted in disgust just to prove his point.

"_I won't let go_," Morticia mimicked. Her voice was soft and weak, just like how the actress delivered the line after being almost frozen in the sea. "_Jack, I won't let go. I promise, I won't let go_."

"Oh, Morticia, please stop!" Gomez begged. He placed his head on her shoulder, trying to erase the memory of the love of his life, imitating the worst movie he ever saw. She laughed heartily at his reaction.

"Oh, I am sorry, Gomez, darling," she said. She touched one side of his head and kissed the other. "I lost grip on myself, _pardonne-moi_."

Something inside Gomez stopped. Or did it quicken? He was not certain. All he knew was that the language she just spoke made him mad. He stalled.

"Gomez? Is there something wrong?" she asked, feeling his sudden stillness.

"Yes…" he breathed. He slowly raised his head from her shoulder.

"Are you sure?" she asked. She looked at him and saw that his eyes were wide, of what, she did not know. She placed a hand on his forehead to see if he had fever. "Are you sick? You do not feel warm."

"I am fine…" he replied, confused as well. Taking several deep breaths, he rested his head on the wall behind him. She did the same on his chest.

They were quiet for some time, not uttering a single word, just feeling the intimacy that they have. Well, for Gomez, he was also trying to determine what just happened.

"What about you, Gomez?" Morticia asked, breaking the calming silence.

"What about me?" he replied, unaware whether she was previously telling a story and was now asking for his opinion.

"What are your plans?" she asked. "You asked me mine, now I would like to know yours. You said that you previously did not have a plan, but now you do. What happened?"

"You," he simply said.

She turned to him. "Me?"

"Yes, you," he replied. "I met you."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "You are being coy again…"

"No, my love. I am being truthful,"

"Are you saying I changed your life?"

"I am saying that you lit up my way, making me realize that I was in on the wrong path. Now, I am taking the right road." He took her hand and kissed it. "And I want to continue walking down that road with you."

"Gomez…" she softly said. Not knowing how to respond, she just kissed him softly on the lips. So softly that she did not allow him to deepen it.

He grunted jokingly.

"I am not yet done," she said, smiling serenely at him. "I want to know more about you."

"Oh, but what is there to know?"

"Oh, drop that front when you are with me, darling. I know that you are not the man you think you are. I do not buy your façade."

She absently uttered another French word, but to him, it struck him hard and deep like a freshly sharpened machete. He stopped breathing and stalled like before. This did not go unnoticed.

"Is there something wrong, darling?" she asked, alarmed by his peculiar behavior. He did not speak, but he nodded. "But why were you halting? This is the second time. Are your wounds infected already?"

She shifted and reached for his leg. He stopped her. "No, _cara mia_, my wounds are fine. _I _am fine. Please do not worry." She looked at him, her face etched with concern. "I am fine, my love," he assured her.

"Alright…" she conceded. She settled back onto his chest. "But you would have to tell me if you are not feeling fine? Please?"

"I will, _cara mia_," he assured. He planted a chaste kiss on her head.

"What were we talking about?" Morticia wondered aloud. "Oh, you. We were talking about you. Please tell me more about yourself, Gomez."

"What about me? I am not interesting," Gomez replied, his voice bored.

"Of course, you are. How do you think I would have liked you if you were not," she insisted. "Surely before everything happened between you and your brother, you were happy siblings."

"We were," he agreed. He smiled as he reminisced about his and Fester's previous escapades. "We used to scare children. We do not have neighbors, so we would go to the nearest exclusive subdivision in the middle of the night and enter two bed rooms per night, scaring children in their beds.

"Other times, we would go to the river where people will be having a river side picnic or fishing. Of course we did neither of those boring things, but we would wear our shark's fin contraption and swim in the river, scaring the wits out of those fishing in their boats." He laughed merrily. "Oh, the memories of their screams."

She smiled. Although she could not see his face, she was sure that he was indeed very happy. "You most certainly enjoyed your brother's company, didn't you? Somehow, though completely unnecessary and pointless, I envy the joy he brought to your life."

"Yes, I miss him. I wish to tell him that I have met the most wonderful woman to ever exist," he said as he embraced her tighter. "Do not envy him, my love. The joy I feel when I am with you is very different from the one when I was with him. I cannot fully explain it, but all I know is that I could not live without you."

"You admitted before that you hardly lived after your brother left,"

"Yes. But it was more because of the guilt."

"And I?"

"You, on the other hand, are my lifeline."

Morticia twisted to look at him straight in the eyes, analyzing his response. Gomez stared right back, not batting an eyelid. What he said was the truest thing he had ever felt in his entire life. Without saying a word, she returned to her previous position with her back on his chest.

"What do you like doing?" she asked.

"No reaction?" he queried instead of answering her question.

"Nope," she replied shortly, shaking her head rather charmingly. Inside, she was deeply flattered. Not only because for the first time ever, she was vital to someone's existence, but also because she felt his sincerity. A lone emotion for him was further developing as he continued expressing his feelings for her.

He frowned, unable to identify the emotion underneath her short response. He could not see her face either. However, she did not react negatively, and so he took that as a good response. He decided to answer her question, though retaining his coyly manner. "Anything. As long as I am with you."

She rolled her eyes and grunted playfully. "Of course I know that already," she said, gaining some confidence after he professed how he truly felt. He smiled at this; finally, she was accepting the fact that he loves her no matter what. "But what I meant was before I came along. Surely I have not yet existed in your mind before we actually met."

He laughed. "Sadly, I haven't. Had I dreamt about you, I would have searched far and wide."

"That is not an easy task," she said, laughing with him. "You would have been searching for two people, me and Fester."

"Ah, well I think you would be easier to find than him," he replied. "What do I like doing besides being with you? Hmmm, playing with my trains."

"Trains?" she asked, intrigued. She shifted again to face him, her eyes eager to hear his explanation. He widened the gap of his legs so that she could sit perpendicular to him, with her back on his uninjured leg.

"Yes," he replied, pulling her even closer. "I have miniature steam engines at home. I have a room that only houses the track and my trains. Though, none of the trains last longer than a day. I like blowing them up, you see."

"How?"

"I planted remote controlled dynamite caps on some parts of the track. When I feel like it, I would operate a single train and direct it to the minefield. But most of the time, I would operate two trains, going on different directions. Then, I would time it and make them crash head on. There were times that I would let them crash on a minefield."

"That sounds fun," she commented with a smile. Her eyes gleamed with excitement.

"It's sublime!" he exclaimed. "I would like to play with my trains with you."

Her eyes lit up even more. "Really?" she asked.

"Yes," he replied, returning her excitement. "You could come with me over the summer and stay at our house. We could play with my trains whole day long! We have graveyard surrounding our house, and we have dungeons, and we could explore the nearby cave!"

"Oh, that would be marvelous, darling!" she replied, beginning to be more excited by the second. Then she frowned, completely losing her enthusiasm. "Would you not be searching for your brother over the summer?"

"Oh, yeah, we will be," he answered, also dropping his excitement. Then his face lit up as rapid as he lost it. "But you can search with me. We will be travelling all over the country, even overseas."

"I would love that," she said, regaining her excitement.

He grinned widely. "I wish summer would come soon enough!"

"I as well," she replied. She laid her head on his shoulder.

"What about you?" he asked as he stroked her hair. "What do you like doing?"

"Besides being with you?" she teasingly asked. He nodded with a smile. "Well, I have an African strangler named Cleopatra, who is in my room; and two dolls named Anne Boleyn and Marie Antoinette. I chopped their head off." She added a saw-on-wood sound and gestured a finger cutting off the head from the neck to prove her point.

Though she did not really spoke French, the way she mentioned the names of her dolls bubbled his blood, though not as strongly as when she previously spoke French words. He gulped hard, wondering what was with French.

"French, huh?" Gomez asked nonchalantly, though he felt none of it.

"Yes," Morticia answered with a smile, unaware of his discomfort. "Old France have always fascinated me, their Tudor fashion, their monarchs who are very sadist, and of course, the French Revolution.

"New France still fascinates me, more because of the romance its streets emanate. And the Eiffel Tower looks blissful."

He smiled at here serene face. Clearly, more than Transylvania, France appealed to Morticia's emotions. "Have you been to Paris?"

"No," she shook her head sadly. "I have never left the mainland America. But have you?"

"Very briefly, two years back when I was looking for Fester," he replied. He then touched her face and tried to soothe the sadness there. "I suppose it was magical, but I was not there for a holiday, which was probably why I was not able to appreciate its beauty. But I would like to bring you there."

"That is very sweet of you, Gomez dear," she said, smiling at him. She removed his hand from her chin and again laid her head on his shoulder. Gently, she wrapped her arms around his torso. Then she murmured, "Thank you."

He buried his nose in her hair and breathed in her scent, which was a faint mixture of a high-end perfume and vanilla. As he took another breath of her hair, he realized that what mostly intoxicated his senses was Morticia herself. She has this scent that Gomez knew was only hers. He took yet another whiff and she raised _her head._

"What are you doing?" she softly asked, looking quite puzzled.

"Smelling you," he replied. His eyes were closed, as if he was truly concentrating on her scent. "I love how you smell."

She chuckled and buried her nose on his chest. She took a whiff. "You smell good, too," she said. "You smell like tobacco and faint Hermes perfume… I cannot place this scent… perhaps that scent is you."

"And you smell like you, as well," he replied.

They did not speak for a while. They just sat there on the balcony at the dead of the night when everyone was supposedly asleep, holding each other like they could not get enough. Every now and then, one of them would let out a satisfied sigh and look endearingly to the other. Even if they were not in Paris, in each other's arms, the moment was just perfect.

After what seemed like hours, Morticia spoke up. She did not raise her head to look at him. Her voice was very soft, "Gomez, I have a question…"

"You seem very hesitant to ask that question, my love," he commented. "But whatever that is, ask away."

"How do I know that I am not just like the Amore twins?" she meekly asked. She kept her eyes down, avoiding any possible eye contact with him for she knew he was looking at her as if he was just slapped hard on the face.

"Morticia how could you even –" he began but she interrupted him for his voice was angry, if not betrayed.

"Please do not be angry, Gomez," she said, still looking at anywhere but him. "That was just an honest question. I just…" her explanation faded with her voice.

He almost sighed exasperatedly when he realized that she had a point. He had indeed repeatedly said that she was a lifeline, a torch to lead the way, that he was in love with her, but how was he sure? He did not doubt her feelings for him, but he realized that buried at the back of his mind, the question of reassurance was nagging him as much as it was to her.

He did not respond immediately. Silence enveloped them.

"To be frank, I have no idea," he finally said, breaking the silence. He took her hand and caressed it. "All I know is that this is telling me that you are not like the Amore twins."

At last, Morticia raised her head and looked to where Gomez was pointing – his heart. He then took her hand and placed it on top of his left chest, where his heart was. "Do you feel that? It's beating your name."

She smiled, apparently convinced.

"But how am I sure that you did not slip me a love potion?" he asked, returning the favor of her question. "You are a witch after all."

Her smile grew. "_Touché_, Gomez."

He gripped her hand tightly as she finished speaking that single French word. His eyes dilated, and his breathing somehow faltered. He gulped.

"Gomez, what is it?" she questioned with a visible edge in her voice. "You have been stalling more than a broken car for the past two hours or so. I demand you to tell me what it is!"

He closed his eyes and attempted to calm himself down. "I do not know…" he said. His voice was not weak, but his insides were squirming. "You spoke French."

She looked at him blankly. "Did I? I cannot recall."

"Thrice already."

She still looked at him blankly, unable to comprehend his point. "Well, I have been doing self-study of the language for years. Why does it matter? What does it have to do with everything?"

"Will you speak French now?" he asked.

"But why? Tell me first what is happening to you."

"Speak French first, cara mia. It might bring things into perspective."

"Gomez?"

"French please first, my love,"

Morticia sighed in defeat. "Gomez, _mieux vous expliquer tout cela_."

She barely finished her sentence when he brought her hand to his lips and fervently kissed it. "What…?" she began but he completely ignored her and continued kissing her hand. His kisses were slowly crawling up to her forearm, on the crook of her arm, her shoulders, pursuing to go even to her neck. "Gomez!" she cried, shaking him up, and thankfully stopping him from kissing her any further.

Gomez looked at her, confusion evident in his eyes.

"Explanation please?" she asked, mirroring his confusion.

"I have not the slightest idea," he said. She studied him for a bit and decided that he was telling the truth. "All I know is that when you speak French, I just feel… well, I do not know how I feel. My insides were bubbling, my mind was clouded, and I just want to kiss you."

She chuckled softly, despite herself. "You do not make sense, Gomez."

"I know," he agreed. "But it was like that, Tish."

"'Tish'?" she repeated. Her perfectly sculpted eyebrows were creased in the middle.

"Though you still look breathtaking when you frown, I would rather you not do so," he said easing her frown with his index finger. "Yes, Tish. May I call you that?"

"Oh, Gomez, you are charming," she commented with a smile. She relaxed her face, and ultimately lost her frown. "Perhaps asking my permission is already moot, darling, as you have already called me that."

"Point well made," he said, returning her smile.

* * *

For the rest of the night, they spoke about anything that cropped up in their minds. There were times that neither of them would speak, but it was just fine. Neither of them remembered falling asleep, but it was Morticia who first woke up after a rooster crowed several times.

When she opened her eyes, she was first disoriented by the amount of view she saw: the willow tree beside her balcony was almost within reach, the light from the sky was brighter without the curtains from the balcony door. Come to think of it, her balcony door was not on sight. That was when she realized that she was sitting on her balcony and not her bed. And the reason why she was there was because of Gomez Addams, her beau.

She smiled, liking the sound of that even in her mind.

She gently turned and saw that he was peacefully sleeping with his head resting on her shoulder. She vaguely remembered that during the night, they shifted from their position and sat with his back on the wall and her back on his chest, just like in the beginning of their night conversation. She must have fallen asleep on his arm.

"Gomez," she whispered. "Gomez, darling." She reached out a hand and gently caressed his cheek.

"Mmm?" he asked incoherently, his eyes still shut.

_"_Darling? Wake up."

"Morning?" he mumbled, still half asleep.

"Yes, dear. It is morning already."

Reluctantly, Gomez opened his eyes. He squinted at the weak morning light. Then he looked at her and smiled sleepily. "Morning, my love."

"Good morning, Gomez," she replied, returning his smile. She touched his cheek. "You better go."

"You want me to leave already?" he teasingly asked. He looked at her with hurt puppy eyes.

"Oh, darling, I would love for you to stay here," she whispered. "But it is already six in the morning; I need to prepare for my class. And you should return to your home and sleep for a couple of hours. But I would need to redress your wound first." She stood up and went inside her room, not letting him stop her.

"Can I not stay?" he asked. She did not immediately reply. She emerged from her bed room carrying her medical supplies and sat on her legs as she gently checked on the wound on his wound. It was still fresh given that he carved so deeply, but it was no longer bleeding.

"You need to sleep," she said as she lightly dabbed the gin-soaked cloth on his wound. He hissed as it stung.

"I need you," he said in between hisses through gritted teeth.

"Too dependent, Gomez, darling," she warned. To prove her point, she applied extra pressure on his wound as she covered it with gauze and medical tape. He grunted in pain. "It is not adorable. There," she said, picking up her supplies. "All fixed."

Pouting, he slowly stood up, holding onto the wall for support. He did some practice walking along the balcony as she returned the pillows and medical supplies inside her room.

"Better?" she asked, casually leaning on the balcony door.

"Yes, thank you," he answered. He turned to her. "I will see you later, then."

She did not respond. Instead, she just smiled her special smile, reserved just for him. With a soaring heart, he then started to climb over the balcony, more careful than necessary because of his injured leg.

Clinging onto a branch of the willow tree beside the railing, he said, "Just one French, please, Tish?"

Her smile widened. "_J'taime_," she said without any hesitation.

He stared at her, flabbergasted. He did not even have the slightest urge to kiss her. He just stood there, mouth hanging open, his one arm wrapped around the willow tree branch, while the other holding onto the balcony railing.

She gazed back to him, smiling serenely.

"Did you just…?" he finally asked, his voice barely audible.

"I will see you later, Gomez, darling" she said, still smiling. She turned around and was about to enter her bedroom, when he jumped over the railing onto the balcony and spun her to face him.

"Will you say that again?" he requested.

She shook her head with a sly smile. "Pushing your luck too much, my dear."

"But did you really…?" he started but could not continue.

"Goodness, Gomez, you could barely put two words together," she teased. Seeing him looking all confused and shocked, she changed tack. "_Bien bien.__ Monsieur Addams, je tiens à vous dire combien Je t'aime. Je souhaite que mon français suffira pour toute la journée. _"

As quick as lighting, he grabbed her hand and showered it with fervent kisses. "Tish, by some reason your French drives me wild!" he exclaimed in between kisses. From her arm, he proceeded kissing the base of her neck, creeping up her nap.

"Gomez," she whispered to stop him, but frankly, she was enjoying his lips on her skin. Either he did not hear her or he decided to ignore her, as he continued kissing her, this time on her jaw. "Gomez!" she hissed. "Stop!"

Deciding that her now-beau probably was too enjoying himself, she gently dug her nails on his wrist, and hissing on his ear, "Gomez, stop!" She gently slapped him on the shoulder. "Control, Gomez!"

"Wha –?" he said as he finally emerged from her jaw after she dug her nails deeper into his wrist. Upon realizing what he did, he stared at her, eyes wide in shock. "I'm sorry, Tish! I really am very sorry! I do not know what came over me. I'm sorry, _cara mia_!"

"Quite alright," she said, waving off his apologies with a kiss on the cheek. "But please, darling, control yourself next time."

"I will, my love, I will," he said. He took her hand again and planted a chaste kiss. "Forgive me."

"I do," she replied, smiling kindly at him.

He smiled back. "Well, my love, I must go. I must go before I lose myself any further." Once again, he climbed over the balcony railing and started to climb down the willow tree.

"Gomez?" she softly called. He paused and looked up at her. She walked toward him and placed both of her hands on the either side of his face. She leaned forward and gently kissed him. "I love you, Gomez," she murmured. Morticia let go of him and retreated to her room, closing the balcony door, leaving Gomez, baffled by her dazzling way of saying good bye.

* * *

Ophelia was about to call Morticia when a knock on the door interrupted her. Wondering who the person might be outside and knowing that Christian was sick and would not be coming to school that day, Ophelia walked to the door and opened it. It was Gomez.

"You!" she cried, getting angry all over again. "What on earth are you doing here?! How dare you come here after what you did to my sister?!"

"Ophelia, I –" Gomez started to explain but Ophelia cut him off.

"Have you any idea how distraught she is?! She was barely speaking to me this morning! She was not even drinking her morning tea! She just sat there, staring into space looking nothing but a living person! And now you come here? What for?" She stepped forward, pointing a threatening finger at him. He almost cowered at the sight of her looking so murderous. She smiled at his discomfort. "Yes, you should be scared, Gomez Addams! Because I am capable of murder as much as Morticia's African strangler! You have the nerve of coming here looking so bright and confident. Well, let me tell you, I will wipe more than that ridiculous mustache from your face!"

"Ophelia –" he almost pleaded.

"Don't you dare 'Ophelia' me! I will –"

"Ophelia?" Morticia's voice from inside the house rang out. Ophelia and Gomez looked back inside and saw Morticia coming to their direction, her bag over her shoulder, looking confused. "What are you doing? Why were you shouting?"

"I was –" Ophelia began but abruptly stopped upon seeing her sister's hair. "You let down your hair!"

Instead of replying, she looked beyond her and saw Gomez almost cowering behind Ophelia. "Gomez?" Morticia asked. "What are you doing here?"

Before he could even open his mouth to answer, Ophelia swiveled her head to his direction and tried killing him with just the look from her eyes. "He was just leaving, were you not?" She turned back to Morticia. "Good thing you finally let down your hair! I have been telling you that for the past 18 years of our lives!"

Still, Morticia chose to ignore her sister and peered to Gomez.

"Hello, Morticia," he said, looking sheepish.

"_You dare talk to my sister_?!" Ophelia cried, completely losing her head.

"Why are you shouting at him?" Morticia asked, pulling Ophelia away from Gomez, who was sweating despite the autumn wind blowing.

"Why are you defending him?" Ophelia asked as she watched her sister side with Gomez.

"Because you are accosting him for no apparent reason," Morticia replied. She turned to Gomez, "Are you alright?"

"Yes," he replied. "Just quite shaken."

"You should be!" Ophelia cried.

"Ophelia, what is happening?" Morticia asked.

"You tell me what is happening, Morticia," Ophelia answered, her voice as shrill as ever. "For the past few days you have been as dead as our great grandmother because of the sorrow you were feeling which _he_ caused. Yet now, you are defending and shielding him from my wrath!"

"Ophelia, please calm down," Morticia said in a low, soothing voice. "Gomez and I already spoke with each other last night."

"He wasn't here last night," Ophelia contradicted.

Finally regaining his confidence now that Morticia was with him (or was it because he was with Morticia?), Gomez spoke up. "Oh, believe me, Ophelia, I was here last night."

Ophelia swiveled her head to his direction and glared murderously. "Did I invite you to this conversation?" she snarled. Then she turned to her sister, her eyes demanding an answer.

"Gomez was indeed here last night," Morticia confirmed.

"_He couldn't be here!_" Ophelia cried. "I was downstairs all night, I would know if he came and knocked."

Morticia and Gomez looked at each other, a certain amusement danced in their eyes. "Well, that was because he did not knock," Morticia gently began. Her voice was soft, attempting to placate her seething sister. "He went directly upstairs."

"UPSTAIRS?!" Ophelia shrieked. The birds on the trees flew in fear of her outburst. "_He was in your room?_"

"Ophelia, please cease from yelling," Morticia asked as she and Gomez looked around them, looking whether anyone was barging to their direction due to the ruckus Ophelia was causing. "You might wake the neighbors up."

"_I do not care if I wake the neighbors up!_" Ophelia continued shouting. "_Besides, our only neighbors are Elizabeth and Christian! Why was he in your room?!_"

Morticia sighed in resignation, but still continued speaking in a soft voice. Nothing would make her lose her head like her sister, even when she was as angry as she was. "Gomez was not in my room. We were in the balcony, simply talking."

"Oh," was Ophelia's only response. Then she decided to change tack. "And you believed everything he has told you?"

"Well, not at –" Morticia began but Ophelia interrupted her.

"Of course!" she cried. "Why would you – wait, what?" she asked upon realizing what her sister just said.

Morticia sighed again, this time in exasperation. "I will explain, Ophelia. Both Gomez and I will explain. We just beg that you would cease from interrupting us and keep a cool head. And it would be wise if we continue this discussion inside the house."

Ignoring Ophelia, Morticia took Gomez's hand and together, they entered the house, leaving the former behind. "She is becoming to sound and act like Mother. And it is already getting into my nerves," Ophelia heard Morticia say as the two of them left. Before following them, she narrowed her eyes at their intertwined fingers.

When she entered, Ophelia found her sister seating on an arm chair and Gomez on the arm rest of the same chair. His hands were casually draped on her shoulders. Her eyes further narrowed, they were almost closed. She sat on the other arm chair.

"Well?" she probed, her eyebrows raised way high.

"No interruptions, Ophelia," Morticia repeated.

"Fine," she replied, rolling her eyes.

Morticia and Gomez shared a look and seemed to converse with just a single glance.

"I was not, nor have I ever met with Natalie," Gomez began to which, by some unknown reason to Ophelia, made Morticia smile. Ophelia scoffed loudly.

"No interruptions," Morticia reminded.

"I have no proof to provide but I have never or will I ever buy Natalie roses," Gomez continued as if he was not cut in. "The days I did not meet with Morticia, I still made sure that I see."

Ophelia looked at him, utterly confused. Her sister spoke up to explain. "Every night, he would climb the willow tree to my balcony and watch me sleep. Of course I did not know that until last night."

Ophelia's eyes narrowed again. He continued.

"Yesterday, after you and Phoebe told me that you didn't know where Morticia was, I searched for her all over the campus. When I did not see her anywhere, I knew she was home. And so last night, despite knowing that once seen, I might be murdered to pieces, I came over again and watched her sleep just like before.

"I truly wanted to apologize but I was too chicken. And then there she was, gloriously beautiful in black nightgown –"

"_You were only wearing your nightgown when he came?!_" Ophelia cried but Morticia did not bat an eyelid. She just glared at her to remind her about their agreement to be silent during the explanation.

"– her hair gently blowing in the light wind… and her beautiful blue eyes colder than the glaciers in hatred," he smiled despite the memory of her angered face. "But regardless of everything, an explanation is still the best remedy."

"And…?" Ophelia pressed, ignoring her supposed silence.

"And we made up," Gomez finished with a smile.

"You made _out_?!" she cried.

Before responding, Morticia and Gomez first shared a delighted look. Ophelia nearly passed out.

"We made _up_," Morticia then corrected, though hers and Gomez's eyes were shining mischievously.

"And…?" Ophelia asked again.

"And what?" Morticia asked, confused. "What response are you exactly looking for?"

"What are you two exactly, now? A couple? Friends? Acquaintances? What?"

Morticia and Gomez shared another look, a look Ophelia knew too well not to recognize. "I thought it was already too obvious, Ophelia," Morticia said, delighted. She and Gomez held each other's hand, their eyes both sparkling with affection.

* * *

It did not take long for Ophelia to be convinced of Morticia's and Gomez's relationship. It has been more or less a decade since she had witnessed her sister be genuinely happy – and that was because Morticia found out that she was a witch. Gomez also seemed happier, though Ophelia had not seen him in his lowest point to compare it with. He was practically bouncing at the balls of his feet.

"When would you be telling Phoebe about this?" Ophelia asked, shouldering her bag. She watched Gomez attempt to take Morticia's bag but her sister resisted.

"There is no need, darling," Morticia said, giving Gomez a peck on the cheek. She turned to Ophelia. "Why do you already have your bag with you, Ophelia? Are you leaving for class already? We are about to go to Phoebe's house to tell her."

"Shouldn't you just call her instead? And besides, do you even know where she lives?" Ophelia asked in return. Then she addressed her sister's other question. "Yes, I am leaving early. I want to give you two some space."

"Space?" Gomez repeated. "What for?" He had already given up trying to convince Morticia to let him carry her bag for her. Instead, he went to the coat's peg behind the main door to retrieve her cloak.

At the same time, Morticia spoke. "Are you not coming with us?" She then eyed her coat held by Gomez. "Is it cold outside, darling?"

"It's drizzling, _cara_," he replied. He held out her cloak behind her, she obliged.

"I do not want to disturb you," Ophelia replied as she watched them. No any sign of hurt or pity plead whatsoever was present in her voice.

"Disturb us?" Morticia repeated as she fastened the clasp of her cloak around her neck. She shook her head with a smile. "Do not be silly, Ophelia."

"I actually prepared us breakfast," Gomez added, freeing Morticia's hair from being tucked under her cloak.

"Morticia doesn't have breakfast," Ophelia countered, frowning. Was being in a relationship with Gomez changed her sister that much? They have been together for only several hours, could a change happen that quickly? Ophelia was not certain how to feel about the idea.

"Oh, I have tea for her," he replied. He and Morticia headed to the door.

Ophelia smiled. At least Gomez made his research.

"Are you coming?" Morticia asked, looking back at her from the porch.

"You bet," Ophelia answered, smiling widely and following them out. Remembering her previously unanswered question, she paused after locking the main door and putting the key underneath the dead potted pot beside the door. "Wait. You still have not answered my question. Does either of you know where Phoebe lives?"

"I do not, but Gomez does," Morticia responded. Upon reaching his Duisenberg, Gomez automatically opened the passenger door for her. However, she did not climb in immediately. She turned to her sister. "Will you be alright in the back seat, Ophelia?"

"Of course, don't mind me," she replied, waving her concern away. She flashed her a genuine smile before opening the backseat door and climbing in without a word.

Both Morticia and Gomez just shrugged and followed Ophelia's action, went inside the car, and drove away with a belch of dark smoke. Surprisingly, the journey to Phoebe's house was short.

"Phoebe just lives a few blocks away yet you did not know that, Morticia?" Ophelia asked accusingly as they all piled out of the car.

"I am not entirely social, Ophelia," Morticia replied. She raised a questioning eyebrow to Gomez, who just simply smiled it off.

"Yes, but you are friends, for goodness's sake," her sister pointed out.

"Phoebe insists on meeting me somewhere else or on me phoning her," Morticia explained. Before stepping in front of the main door, she took a moment to admire Phoebe's house.

It was a single storey house, very much unlike their leased haunted-looking house. It looked like a traditional Irish dwelling - made of old granite stones mixed with clay, with vines climbing up the walls. The rood was made up of sandstone flags, only several shades darker than the walls. There was a stone chimney at the far end of the house, which was, at the moment, emitting spirals of smoke. There were shrubbery growing on the lawn of the house, full of wild flowers and plants Morticia was very much familiar with.

They walked past the garden and stood in front of the door with a brass skull-shaped knocker. "Besides, we have classes together from morning until afternoon. Then we would go to the library afterwards. There is actually no point in knowing where she lives, especially when she did not willingly divulge it."

"Point well made as usual, Tish," Gomez said, kissing her hand, which he only let go when holding his car's stick shift while driving. Ophelia mouthed with a slight frown the moniker Gomez chose for her sister. Lucky for her, neither noticed her reaction.

Morticia held the skull brass knocker and knocked. The heavy metal on the similarly heavy door emitted a loud noise that shook their eardrums. The three of them smiled in agreement of Phoebe's choice of furniture.

The door creaked open and revealed an elderly woman with a dark green tinge in her skin. It was a few shades darker than Phoebe's and they instantly knew that the woman who opened the door was her grandmother and another banshee.

It was unusual for Morticia to be afraid of anything. She had long overcome her fear of Raggedy Annes, rainbow sprinkles, and sugar plums. She had also read and imagined all possible mythical creatures, not only from the American culture, but also those from the other parts of the world. She had also befriended a real life banshee. She thought she had no fear left in her. However, upon seeing Phoebe's grandmother, Morticia could not help the chill that ran down her spine.

Phoebe's grandmother was old, her black almost floor-length hair was splattered with graying hair. Her eyes were black behind those slanted eyes, even narrower as she glared at their direction. She was not accommodating at all, in fact, she was quite suspicious at their presence, ready to shriek until the visitors die, if provoked.

Morticia felt Ophelia and Gomez from either side of her shiver in fear. Finding courage from their intertwined hands, Morticia swallowed hard and spoke in a low voice. "We are friends of Phoebe's. We came here to collect her."

The older banshee looked less wary, though still did not express kindness. "Come inside. I will call her." The hairs on their skin rose at the sound of her raspy voice.

They followed Phoebe's grandmother inside the Irish dwelling. Inside was very simplistic, a long worn out but comfortable couch was in the center of the small living room, facing an old television set. Beyond the living room was a wooden dining table adjacent to the kitchen, where a stone stove was situated. The stove was connected to the stone chimney they noticed earlier. On the other side of the living room and dining area were two separate bedrooms, which both doors were closed.

Morticia, Gomez, and Ophelia sat on the long couch and waited for Phoebe. None of them spoke. Unconsciously brought by her irrational fear, Morticia held Gomez's hand tighter, which was cold and clammy, opposite its usual warm and firm.

"Morticia?" Phoebe called coming from the bedroom beside the living room. The three of them turned. They saw that the older banshee was by the kitchen table, eyeing them. "What are you doing here? How did you know where I live?"

It was an honest question, not an unwelcoming one. Morticia understood what her friend meant. She let go of Gomez's hand and stood up to air kiss her friend. Immediately, her irrational fear evaporated. Phoebe noticed Morticia's hair.

"You let down your hair!" she cried gleefully. "I have been telling you to do that for weeks!"

"And I have been telling her that for years," Ophelia spoke before Morticia could open her mouth to respond. "About time, don't you think?"

"Quite true," Phoebe agreed. Then realizing who commented, she paused and looked who were on the couch. Upon seeing Gomez, her face hardened like a stone, not unlike her grandmother. Her voice rose. "What is he doing here?"

"Phoebe, please calm down," Morticia immediately said, putting her hand on her friend's shoulder to appease her. "We will explain."

Seeing her granddaughter looked livid, the older banshee approached them angrily, her hair magically flowing and glowing behind her. Her eyes dilated in anger. Gomez froze in genuine fear.

"Phoebe, please make your grandmother calm down," Morticia added, looking alarmed as she gazed in amazement and fear at Phoebe's grandmother. However, her friend did not seem to hear her. The two banshees were ready to shriek. Having not much of a choice, Morticia hurriedly whispered in Phoebe's ear. "Gomez explained everything last night to me and just this morning to Ophelia. He did not give the roses to Natalie; she was merely faking it to antagonize me. He apologized and we are now together… in a relationship."

The angered look in Phoebe's eyes was instantly extinguished, followed by her grandmother's upon seeing her granddaughter's calmed expression.

"Wait, what?" Phoebe said, finally realizing what Morticia was trying to say.

"Gomez and I are in a relationship," Morticia repeated. She watched closely as her friend's eyes slowly glimmered with unprecedented joy?. Morticia slowly smiled.

Phoebe turned to Ophelia, waiting for confirmation. The latter nodded with a smile not unlike her sister's. She then turned to Gomez, who smiled sheepishly (but also charmingly) at her.

"Oh, I am so happy for you!" she said, embracing her friend. "Why did you not tell me immediately? You could have phoned."

"I told you," Ophelia commented, though jokingly.

"I did not think it would be prudent to tell you the news over the telephone," Morticia replied. "And upon our arrival here, you were attempting to kill Gomez…" Then she added, "Well, you and your grandmother, that is. Please do not be offended Phoebe but, why is she angry at us?"

"Gran?" Phoebe asked, almost laughing. "Oh, she's not angry at you. She's just a bit paranoid. Not many people treat us with goodness." She reached out a hand to her grandmother, beckoning her closer. She obliged. "Gran, these are my friends, Morticia and Ophelia Frump, and Gomez Addams. They are both witches, though Ophelia is a white witch, while Morticia is a dark witch, and Gomez is… well, I do not know. You three, this is my grandmother, Gran Andromeda Lars."

Morticia held out a hand to shake Gran Lars', who did not hesitate. She cracked a smile, which waned the fear in Morticia. Ophelia and Gomez followed suit.

"How did you know that I am a white witch?" Ophelia asked Phoebe.

"Mere guess… and experience, perhaps," she replied. She looked at Gomez. "I still require an explanation."

"My pleasure," Gomez answered with a smile. Now that he knew that he would not be killed by either banshee, he recovered his confidence and took Morticia's hand. "But perhaps I could do that over something to eat?"

"Eat?" Phoebe repeated, looking horrorstruck. "We did not prepare anything."

Gran Lars moved to the kitchen and whip something up, but Gomez stopped her.

"I brought food," he said.

"Did you, now?" Phoebe asked, sounding and looking impressed.

"Trying to impress us," Ophelia playfully whispered.

"I will not deny that," Gomez said, his eyes twinkling. He kissed Morticia's hand. "I will just get the food from the Duisenberg, Tish."

"Let me go with you," she volunteered.

He shook his head. "Stay. I know Phoebe and Ophelia are dying to hear details." He kissed her hand again and left.

Both Ophelia and Phoebe, even Gran Lars, looked at Morticia with raised eyebrows, looking amused and impressed, as if to say, "Good catch!" She just smiled slyly and pointed to the dining table. "Shall we?"

* * *

After their breakfast, they all bid Gran Lars good bye and went to the Duisenberg to go to their classes. Though Ophelia's class was out of the way, Gomez still drove her to the Agricultural Building. The next stop was Morticia's and Phoebe's first period with Professor Belch at the Literature Building.

Gomez switched off the car's engine and opened the car door for Morticia.

"What are you doing?" she asked, puzzled.

"Bringing you to class," he answered. He nodded his head to the general direction of her classroom. "To stop Nicole from having fantasies of me courting her."

Instead of commenting on his intentional misnaming of Natalie like usual, Morticia gave him her shy smile. Holding her hand, Gomez, Morticia, and Phoebe climbed the building.

They were not late, but Professor Belch was surprisingly early. Upon seeing Gomez, his face broke into a ridiculously joyous smile.

"If it isn't Mr. Addams!" he cried. The whole class's attention all settled to the three newcomers. Morticia and Phoebe noticed Natalie and her friends glaring at their direction, while some, who previously listened to Natalie proudly announced that she was dating Gomez, were ogling in disbelief at her. The two smiled victoriously.

"Professor Belch," Gomez greeted rather sheepishly. Morticia wondered how the two of them knew each other, after all, the subject Professor Belch taught was World Mythology, and Gomez's course was Political Science.

"I taught Mr. Addams Literature in his second year," Professor Belch answered Morticia's unspoken question.

"Oh…" was her only response.

"And barely passed," Gomez added, still looking sheepish.

"Oh…" Morticia and Phoebe commented, though rather slyly.

"Yes," the professor agreed. Then he added in disappointed tone, "Quite intelligent but generally wasted."

If it was possible, Gomez looked even more embarrassed.

"But I have been hearing a lot of good things in the faculty hall, Mr. Addams," Professor Belch said. "Your major subject professors are quite impressed with the great development in your work. I now see the reason why. You have quite a muse, Mr. Addams."

"Could not agree more, Professor Belch," Gomez proudly said. He raised his intertwined hand with Morticia and kissed hers.

Instead of being shy about it, Morticia proudly smiled. At the corner of her eye, she saw Natalie stared at them, completely horrorstruck. She heard Phoebe and the rest of the class snickered, probably at Natalie's direction.

"Take good care of Miss Frump," Professor Belch said. "She is a diamond."

"I fully intend to, Professor," Gomez agreed. He narrowed his eyes as if rethinking. "But I do not think Morticia is a diamond. Yes, diamonds are the most precious stone just like her, but the stone itself does not suit her. Not fully, that is." He paused. Then finally said, "She is my black diamond."

Morticia vaguely heard a gasp and saw that Natalie burst into tears.

Professor Belch smiled, unaware of his overly emotional student. "Well, Mr. Addams, it is time to start my class. If you would unhand Miss Frump so she and Miss Munster could go to their seats."

Gomez kissed Morticia's hand again. But before leaving, she planted a chaste kiss on his cheek.

Natalie wailed in despair.

* * *

A month of romance and happiness later, after their date at the movie house to watch the _The Exorcist _and a late nightcap, Gomez arrived at his apartment and wondered why the lights were switched on inside. It was not until he stepped inside the apartment and saw his mother seated on the never been used couch, that he realized what date it was.

"Mama!" he almost cried in shock. His eyes were wide. "How long have you been here? Was I supposed to pick you up at the bus station? Oh, I am sorry, Mama!" He rushed to her and locked her in an embrace, which caught her off guard.

Mrs. Addams awkwardly patted him on the back, unsure how to react on his sudden act of endearment. "You never pick me up, Gomez, dear. I always ride the bus to town and hire a cab to drive be here."

"But I should have picked you up," he insisted, his head still buried in his mother's flyaway and frizzy hair. "Or have at least have Lurch drive you down here."

"Ah, you know, Lurch," Mrs. Addams said, still uncertain of her son's actions. "He has so many things on his plate. And besides, he is usually out of town, looking for your brother while you are at school."

"Speaking of Fester…" Gomez pulled away from his mother and sat beside her. He looked intently into her eyes, almost not batting an eyelid. "We need to talk, Mama. Well, I need to tell you something."

The mention of Fester's name brought tears onto Mrs. Addams's eyes. Since his disappearance, Fester's name was never mentioned by anyone in the Addams household. They, from the head of the house, Mr. Addams, to their butler, Lurch, learned to refer Fester as 'him' or 'my son' or 'your brother'. It was just too painful for them to mention his name.

In the Addams mansion, Gomez avoided any mention of Fester's name or even any reference of him. For Mrs. Addams to hear Fester's name, the pain of his loss was somehow alleviated. And for her to hear the name directly from Gomez made her even more emotional. She knew that by even a mere mention of the name was very painful for her son.

"Mama…" he began as tears welled up in his eyes. How he wished Morticia was there to hold his hand and give him strength. Realizing that she was not, he took hold of his mother's hand and placed his forehead on them. He felt his voice cracking even before he spoke. "Mama, I am sorry for Fester's loss. I am sorry for Papa's death. And I am sorry I have brought you so much pain."

He did not elaborate but Mrs. Addams understood everything he did not say, she is, after all his mother. She did not respond. Instead, she pulled him closer and hugged him tightly. She could hear him crying on her shoulders.

Even without him saying, she knew what was happening inside him in the seven years of Fester's absence. She knew that he was void of emotions brought by the too much pain he felt. She knew that he was very angry at himself for doing what he did, not only to Fester, but also to her and Mr. Addams, which brought him to his death, and most especially, to the Amore twins, who were merely the pawns of his ploy. She also knew that he was failing school and was becoming socially inept because of his wayward, almost nonexistent emotions.

She just let him cry. She held him for who knew how long, until his tear ducts were empty of tears. He finally raised his eyes to meet his mother's, eager to hear a response.

"I forgive you, Gomez," Mrs. Addams finally said. Then she added, "But you must also forgive yourself."

He smiled weakly. "I already had."

She leaned forward and kissed him on the forehead. She returned his smile. "I wonder what took you so long."

He chuckled as he wiped of the tears on his cheek with a handkerchief.

"A person came to make me realized that nothing will change if I do not live," he said.

Mrs. Addams noted the glint of happiness in Gomez's eyes, and understood what he meant. Her smile grew. "That person must be very special."

"Oh, she is, Mama," he replied, grinning widely.

"She?" Mrs. Addams repeated, trying to play dumb to encourage her son to divulge further information.

"Yes, Mama. I will introduce you to her tomorrow,"

"I am looking forward to that," she looked at him knowingly. "I am supposing that you are home late because of this mysterious young lady, am I right?"

Gomez smiled even wider; his grin was practically from ear to ear. That was enough explanation for his mother, who smiled in return, clearly delighted for her son. She then stood up and Gomez followed.

"Where will you be sleeping, Mama?" he asked, realizing that it was the first time that her mother would stay in the apartment. He looked around and saw at the corner of the couch his mother's bag. It was big enough to serve as an overnight bag. "Did you bring clothes?"

"I always do, just in case I could not return home," Mrs. Addams replied, picking up her bag. "I will be sleeping in your brother – Fester's room," she corrected herself as she searched in the depths of her bag for the key. "You should make the room available for visitors, Gomez."

"No one visits, except for you," he said, taking his mother's bag as they walked to Fester's room. She unlocked the door and opened it. She and Gomez stared at the room silently. Though he had already expressed his remorse for what he did and he had already forgiven himself and asked for forgiveness from his mother, Fester's room was still too much for him. He decided to retreat to his room. "Er… good night, Mama."

"Good night, son," Mrs. Addams replied, mirroring his son's distracted voice.

* * *

The following morning, Gomez woke up at the smell and sound of burnt egg frying. He went to the adjacent bathroom to take a bath. Several moments later, he entered the kitchen wearing yet another pinstripe suit.

"Good morning, Gomez," Mrs. Addams greeted. She put a plate out for him and placed the egg she was frying on it. "There is freshly burnt toast on the table."

"Thank you," he replied, picking up his plate and bringing it to the table. Indeed, there was freshly burnt toast just for him. "Have you eaten already, Mama?"

"Yes," she answered. She stood beside him and watched him eat.

"There is nothing like freshly burnt breakfast," he commented with a smile. "I have been eating stale bread for the past few months."

"Why did you not burn them?" she asked. "I gave you enough stale bread for burning when you left."

"Too busy," he simply said. The same twinkle from last night when he mentioned the mysterious woman was present in his eyes. Mrs. Addams understood immediately.

"Though I would be very glad to meet this wonderful young woman, I would still require you to accompany me first to your father's old house," she said smiling. It was very refreshing to see his son project emotion. It was even more enjoyable to see him smile. "We will be paying the Parkers for their service. Also, I would like to see how the house looks like now, and see whether somebody finally realized how enchanting the house was and rent it."

"Oh, alright," he said, sounding quite hesitant. "Though I do not know where the house is."

She stared at him in disbelief. "We have been going to that house for six years, Gomez Alonzo Addams!"

He looked at his mother, who now looked formidable, and just shrugged.

Mrs. Addams sighed. "As soon as you finished eating, we will go," she said with such finality that made him gulp down the food on his plate without any further ado. He jumped off his seat and carried his empty plate on the sink and stuck it there together with the pan previously used by his mother.

"All set," he said while his mouth was still full. He brushed off the crumbs from his hands and took the key from the kitchen counter.

Shaking her head as she was both amused and a bit irritated, Mrs. Addams grabbed her bag from the dining table and walked out of the house, with her son jogging after her. He arrived at the Duisenberg ahead of her and opened the car door before sliding on the other side of the car.

"Please direct the way," he said as he switched on the engine.

"Just drive away from the campus and turn left on the third corner after the intersection," she said, again shaking her head.

They drove away and he followed her instructions, vaguely noting that the road they were taking was all too familiar for him.

"Take the left fork and turn left on the first corner."

He could not believe his eyes. They were driving towards Morticia and Ophelia's neighborhood! He must have passed by his father's old house a great number of times without him knowing.

"Stop over here," Mrs. Addams finally said. They both climbed out of the car. Gomez was about to go to the house they just passed when, to his amazement, his mother went to Morticia and Ophelia's home. She walked to the right side of the house, passing by the willow tree Gomez was all too familiar with, and going directly to the cottage behind the main house. Elizabeth stood with her back at the newcomers as she tended her overgrowth, oblivious of her visitors.

"Mrs. Parker?" Mrs. Addams called out. Elizabeth turned and broke into a smile upon seeing her.

"Oh, hello!" she said. After all the years they have been meeting, she still does not know the name of Alonzo's wife. She looked beyond her and saw Gomez, looking bewildered. She greeted him. "Hello, Gomez! You look lost."

"You know my son?" Mrs. Addams asked, surprised that Elizabeth knew Gomez. After all, whenever they visit, he would stay in the car. He did not still even know how to get to the house, how could Elizabeth know him?

"He is your son?" Elizabeth asked in return, surprised as well.

"Gomez?" a low voice called out. The three of them turned and saw Morticia and Ophelia coming to their direction, both looking quite confused.

"We thought you were coming over," Morticia continued. "But you just passed by the house. We wondered what was wrong." She looked to Mrs. Addams and smiled at her. "Good morning."

"Good morning," Mrs. Addams replied, feeling warm towards her for some reason. She turned to Gomez. "Who are these people, Gomez?"

"Who is that?" Ophelia whispered to Morticia, who just shrugged. Morticia studied Gomez's face and was not certain what to make of his reaction. He was shocked and confused, but delighted all at the same time.

"Allow me to do the introductions," Gomez said, stepping forward to interrupt Elizabeth who was to explain. He stepped beside Morticia and pulled her closer before kissing her hand. He addressed his mother. "Mama, I would like you to meet the woman who made sense of my wayward life, Morticia." Then he turned to Morticia. "Tish, meet my mother."

Morticia's eyes grew in surprise. She stepped forward and held out a hand, which Mrs. Addams shook. "Hello, Mrs. Addams."

"Hello, Morticia," Mrs. Addams replied with a warm smile. "I heard good things about you, but rather few I must say."

"Please do not believe all the things your son is saying, he tends to be tad exaggerated," Morticia said, smiling also.

"Not when I am talking about you," Gomez interrupted, smiling at the sight of the two most important women in his life getting along pretty well.

"Most especially, when you are speaking of me," Morticia interrupted.

"This is Morticia's sister, Ophelia," Gomez decided to say instead of going against what Morticia said, which was of course true.

"Hello, Mrs. Addams," Ophelia greeted. She also held out a hand, which Mrs. Addams politely shook. "Morticia and I are twins."

"It does not look it," Mrs. Addams said.

"We know," Morticia and Ophelia said in unison.

"Of course, Mama you know Elizabeth," he continued. He saw Christian coming their way. "And that is Elizabeth's son, Christian, also Ophelia's beau." He turned to Elizabeth. "I did not know that this was the house my father left for you to tend. I only learned about that now."

"Wait, you mean to say that we are living in _your _house?" Ophelia asked.

"Oh, so you are my tenants?" Mrs. Addams also asked. "About time someone decided to stay in this lovely house."

"Yes to both of your questions," Gomez replied. He looked at Morticia apologetically. "Forgive me _cara _for not telling you, I had no idea."

Morticia placed a gentle hand on his cheek. "Do not apologize, darling. It was not your fault. Although I should have put together the information I got from Elizabeth that the late owner of this house was named Alonzo, and the information that your full name is Gomez Alonzo Addams."

"What's up?" Christian asked upon his arrival. He held Ophelia by the waist.

"We just finished the introductions," Ophelia explained. "This is Gomez's mother, Mrs. Addams."

"Good day, madam," Christian said. "I am Christian, Elizabeth Parker's son."

"He must be inside the house during your previous visits," Elizabeth furthered.

Seeing his confused face, Ophelia continued the explanation. "It so appeared that Gomez is the son of the house's previous owner. But he did not know that until just now."

"I see…" Christian said. "Well, we must be going," he told the others. "Ophelia and I are going downtown to buy supplies for the chocolate cake that we will be baking for tonight."

"Good bye, Mrs. Addams. Bye, Elizabeth and Gomez," Ophelia said. She grinned manically at her twin sister and said in a teasing tone, full of unvoiced communication. "Bye, Morticia…"

"Did I hear correctly?" Mrs. Addams asked as Ophelia and Christian left. The looked disgusted. "Did they say that they will be baking chocolate cake?"

"I am sorry, Mrs. Addams," Morticia answered. "Baking chocolate cake is their pet-peeve."

"I already discouraged Christian while he was young from wanting chocolate," added Elizabeth. "I thought it was just a phase, but apparently he truly adores chocolate cake. And most unfortunately, he shared his odd penchant with Ophelia."

"Shall we continue the conversation inside?" Morticia asked, hoping to sway Mrs. Addams from thinking further about the chocolate cake. "I could make us all a cup of henbane tea."

"Henbane?" Mrs. Addams curiously asked. Her eye brow was raised.

"Yes," Morticia replied, unsure of Mrs. Addams's reaction. "But I have other herbs, should you not want henbane. I picked mandrake leaves from the garden just before you arrive. And there are lilies of the valley, larkspur, hemlock –"

"Do not stress yourself, dear," Mrs. Addams interrupted. "Henbane would be marvelous." She started to walk towards the house with Elizabeth on her heels. She paused to admire Morticia's part of the garden, briefly grimacing on Ophelia's daisy-fied part. "I would assume that this side is yours to tend?"

"Yes, Mrs. Addams," Morticia answered. There was something about Mrs. Frump that made her nervous. She was holding onto Gomez's hand tightly.

"Are you nervous?" Gomez whispered to her ear.

"By some reason," Morticia whispered back.

"Never fear, my love, I will always be with you," he said.

She looked up at him adoringly. He was only five inches taller than her, but provided that she was wearing three-inch heels, their height difference was not very noticeable. She looked ahead and saw that Mrs. Addams and Elizabeth were both engrossed in a conversation to notice them. She turned to Gomez and chastely kissed him on the lips.

"I love you, Gomez," she whispered.

"I love you, too, Tish," he whispered back. He inched closer to her but she slipped away, gliding towards Mrs. Addams and Elizabeth, who were both already in the kitchen. She started preparing tea.

Gomez shook his head yet smiled at the elusiveness of Morticia. He knew only she could pull that off. He followed them and sat his mother and Elizabeth on the dining table. He sat beside his mother, who took his hand.

"Yes?" he asked, looking at her inquiringly.

"I like her," she simply said before letting go of his hand and resuming her conversation with Elizabeth. But before Gomez could react, she turned to him again and said. "Take good care of her, she's for keeps."

* * *

**End of Chapter 11. I know I said that I will be uploading two chapters before Christmas, but I was quite busy with other stuff that I just finished writing this chapter and there is no Chapter 12 yet. I will try my best to post Chapter 12 before New Year. I hope you guys won't be mad.**

**Thank you for bearing and waiting for the continuation of this fanfic! Please do not forget to comment and suggest! See you in Chapter 12!**

**I wish you all a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!**


	12. Chapter 12: Happy Birthday, Cara Mia

Hello guys! Here is Chapter 12! I hope you like it! Don't forget to R&amp;R! :D Enjoy!

* * *

Neither Morticia nor Gomez could ask for a better relationship. They have been together for three quarters of a year, and not a day passed without them stoking the burning fire of their passion for each other. It was not as if they have already made love with each other, because they have not. There was an unspoken agreement between the two of them about waiting for the right time to extend their love for each other to the bed.

Although Gomez would fetch Morticia, and sometimes Ophelia, during the morning and take her to class, after which they would dine out and talk until the wee hours of the night before retreating home, neither of them seemed to get enough of the other. Which was why every night, just like what he did when they first became in a relationship, almost right after they bid each other good night, Gomez would climb onto Morticia's balcony where they would cuddle and talk some more, but most of the time would just fell asleep wrapped in the arms of the other.

One night, Morticia jokingly told Gomez that perhaps it would be better if they set up a cot on the balcony just so they could be comfortable during the night. The following evening, Gomez attached a make-shift pulley to the willow tree, which he used to bring a portable cot onto her balcony, despite her nonstop laughing.

_"__I was merely pulling your leg, darling," she said, still laughing._

_"__Pull my leg further then," he replied as he laid down the cot on the balcony floor, extending a hand to help her settle beside him._

That was where they stayed since. Morticia brought out a comforter, which kept them warm during the storm.

Ophelia on the other hand, of course knew about what her sister and her beau were doing. But just like her sister's attitude towards her and Christian, she did not bother them. Although both Morticia and Gomez find it awkward if they cuddle inside Morticia's room rather than outside. There would be more privacy and the room would be too small for either of them to control their passion. Staying outside kept them from doing what they reserved for the right time.

They rarely fought, as they trusted each other to be faithful to the other. Also, they kept their communication open, simple, and nondramatic. Gomez was the most gentleman Morticia could ask for, and she on the other hand, was never demanding or needy. They both understood the need to prepare for an exam or the priority to accompany a love one, most especially when Mrs. Addams was in town, which she greatly appreciated from the both of them. Of course, though, Mrs. Addams would insist to have Morticia accompany her and Gomez wherever they go for she prefer to see her son lively.

However, there were times, usually when a specific time of the month comes, neither of them could avoid snapping at the other. It was part of the female anatomy that Gomez seemed not to quite understand. And unfortunately, the times when he would pester Morticia about it would be when red was etched all over her.

_"__But why do you have to be irritated?" Gomez asked for what Morticia felt as the fiftieth time that day._

_The moment she woke up, she knew that today was the day and kept silent. Ophelia realized this the second her sister entered the kitchen and did not utter a word. Phoebe was incidentally with them having spent the night to finish a partner project with Morticia, and bit her tongue, knowing fully the female human anatomy despite her being a banshee._

_Gomez on the other hand, was not very much aware of this female phenomenon, and chose that day to question Morticia yet again._

_She sighed, trying to keep her cool, but failing miserably. There was an edge in her voice when she spoke._

_"__Gomez, I told you, during the cycle, hormones are raging. Most of the time, women experience hormonal imbalance during their period. Which is why some are happy like morons, while some are as angry as a hungry lion! Why could you not understand that?!"_

_"__Alright, so there are happy hormones and there are angry hormones, why don't women just take happy hormones when they are angry or the other way around just to balance?" he persisted._

_She groaned. Ophelia and Phoebe skirted away from them, murmuring that they would just walk to class and see them later that day (or perhaps not)._

_"__Because women have no means of knowing how much happy hormone they should take!" she cried. "Perhaps you should try having some happy hormones when you are angry! And besides, there are more than two emotions, just so you know!"_

_"__Of course I know that!" he shouted back. "I have emotions too, in case you do not know. And how am I supposed to take hormones, I do not even experience your episodes!"_

_"__Lucky you, then!" she yelled before stalking away and slamming the door as she went, making the house shook in the force._

They would not speak for a day and the two of them would feel guilty of their petty fight. The next day, Gomez would arrive at Morticia's doorstep, holding a bouquet of red, long stemmed, thorny roses, which she was very fond of, ready to apologize. When she opened the door, she would be holding a folded paper in her hands, which consisted of her apology and her profession of love for him, written in her elegant and loopy penmanship.

And just like that, their fight was like water under the bridge.

Pretty soon, they learned to control themselves and prevent antagonizing the other. Gomez even started to chart Morticia's cycles just so he knew when would be the least opportune moment to anger her (not that fully intended to), and also for him to somehow prepare for her cycle. Morticia, on the other hand, was attempting to be less emotional during her red days.

Needless to say, their relationship was as harmonious as either of them could possibly imagine.

Gomez, Phoebe, and Christian were all at Ophelia and Morticia's house one night, doing their homework or otherwise reviewing for an exam. The five of them were at the downstairs receiving area, the furniture strewn all around as if a tornado kicked in the house, each in their own spaces.

Christian and Ophelia were sitting back to back next to the coffee table. Around them were a number of open books, and an assortment of plants and parts and different kinds of soil. Both of them were muttering words for them to memorize.

Phoebe was crouched on an arm chair, biting the cap of her pen, as she thought about what to write in the seven page essay assigned to them in their History of French Literature subject. An open book was on one arm of the couch, while her ninth page laid on the other arm. On the floor, neatly stacked, was the rest of her essay, her now-empty wine glass was acting as paper weight.

Morticia already finished her essay a few hours previously. She was now working on her other assignment, which was to compose a short fictional story of no less than fifteen pages, about at least two historical people or occurrence that coursed through the European history. It was a writing exercise for their Advanced Creative Writing class.

Most of her fellow classmates found the task hard, almost impossible. But she and Phoebe was excited to take the challenge. Phoebe even started writing her short story during class. Morticia, on the other hand, decided to conduct research first before writing anything. But then again, Phoebe had already lived for a long time, she witnessed history unfold with her eyes. It was no wonder she did not need to research.

On the floor, beside a small pile of European history books from the library, which Morticia were using as references, was Gomez. He was lying on his back with his arms folded on his chest as if meditating, and his legs crossed. He previously said that it was a zen yogi pose and it helps him concentrate. On his face was an open book, his nose serving as a bookmark. Though everyone else thought that he was sleeping, he was actually memorizing The Declaration of Independence of the United States of America. By some reason, his American Politics professor would be using that for their preliminary exam, instead of the lessons she tediously taught them on the first triad of the semester.

"Gomez, darling, are you awake?" Morticia asked in a whisper as she leaned down to his ear. Her hair brushed his forehead.

"…and that as Free and Independent States, they have full Power to levy War, conclude Peace, contract Alliances, establish Commerce, and to do all other Acts and Things which Independent States may of right do. And for the support of this Declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes and our sacred Honor," Gomez murmured in rapid speed. "By jove, I memorized it!" he exclaimed.

He removed the thick book from his face and got a full sight of Morticia's face, staring down at him with so much adoration. He touched her face. "Were you asking me if I was awake, _cara mia_?" he asked.

"Indeed, I was," she whispered back. A small smile formed on her lips. "But I suppose you are."

"Most certainly!" he replied, returning her smile. "I could never sleep when I am with you."

She scoffed gracefully, though her eyes were shining with amusement. "But you already have!"

"When?" he asked indignantly.

"Last night on my balcony," she answered. "And two nights ago, and the night before that, and the night even before that. Oh, darling, I could go on forever."

"Ah, I suppose I truly have slept even with your presence," he replied, pouting. "But I would really rather not sleep when I am with you. Too bad being human has its limitations. How I wish I am a witch just like you, _cara_."

"Wizards, darling," Morticia corrected. "But witches and wizards are still humans, my love. We are still in need of sleep. Never worry, Gomez dear, I love falling asleep in your arms."

"And I you," Gomez said. He reached up and brushed his lips on hers. It was a chaste kiss, but still full of emotions.

Morticia smiled. "Am I bothering you?" she asked, changing the subject.

"Not at all. I would never see your interruptions as 'bothering me'. I would welcome all kinds of distractions as long as they came from you."

"But I do not mean in general, darling," she insisted. "What I meant to ask was whether I am interrupting your studying."

"No, you are not," he repeated. "I have finally memorized six long paragraphs of The Declaration of Independence of the United States of America after four tedious hours. I will just be reviewing if I got them all correctly. Why did you ask, _cara_?"

"Nothing in particular," she said. "I was merely intending to tell you that I will be going to the powder room."

"Do you need to tell me that?" he asked, confused.

"I was afraid that you will not notice my brief absence," she replied. She looked sheepishly at him, which was new for Gomez for she had never looked that way to him before. He smiled widely, enjoying the sight of the love of his life looking the way he almost always seemed to look at her. Despite the look, she was still beautiful.

"You are amused," she said with a hint of hurt in her voice. He immediately lost his grin.

"I am sorry, my love," he said. He touched her face again, this time to straighten the creased formed in between her eyebrows as she frowned upon him. "I was merely attracted to the way you looked sheepish. Not to mention that this is the first time you displayed that. And besides, I did not know you are clingy, Morticia," he said, repeating the same words she uttered to him before.

A small smile crept unwillingly on Morticia's lips. She candidly scrunched up her face, as she had always done whenever he would throw back at her the words she had previously said to him. "Oh, you are so adorable, _mon cher_," she whispered. She moved to kiss him, but he was faster. The French made his blood boil with excitement.

"That was French,_ cara mia_!" he urgently whispered. He took her hand and showered it with kisses. "Say some more, _cara_! _Baguette_! _Caviar_! _Crêpe_! _Fillet mignon_! Anything! Please, Morticia _mia_!"

She laughed wholeheartedly and threw her head backwards. Everyone in the room stared at her in disbelief. Even Gomez ceased from kissing her arm, he stared at her with wide eyes, though perhaps not as wide as Ophelia's.

Vaguely, Gomez heard Ophelia whisper to Christian, her tone completely surprised, "Morticia's laughing." And if he was not mistaken, Christian replied, "Yeah, shocking."

"What's so funny, Tish?" Gomez asked.

"You are, darling," she replied, barely containing her laugh.

He looked at her blankly. He racked his brains for any idea of what he might have said that seemed funny. However, he could not think of any.

"When you asked me to speak French, all you could give as example were French cuisine," she explained. "Though not entirely classic French cuisine, but merely ordinary French food. I have no idea I remind you of food."

He still did not get it. That seemed to make her smile wider. Still smiling, she kissed him on the cheek and went to the bath room in between the kitchen and the receiving area.

Making sure that the door to the bath room was closed, Gomez abruptly sat up. "Psst," he whispered to Ophelia. He inched closer to her, his head craning to see whether Morticia was already back. "Psst! Ophelia!" he hissed.

Ophelia looked at him strangely. "What?" she asked, her voice in normal volume.

"Talk quietly," he whispered. He turned again to check on Morticia.

Phoebe raised her head from her writing. She looked inquiringly at Gomez, curious of his intentions of speaking silently. However, she remained quiet and just observed.

"What's going on?" Ophelia asked, imitating his hushed voice. She also moved closer to him to hear him better. Christian leaned forward to listen.

Before speaking, he checked on the direction Morticia came from. "How does Morticia spend her birthdays?" Gomez whispered. On the corner of his eye, he saw Phoebe nod knowingly. She smiled and returned to her writing, but still continued listening.

Instead of replying, Ophelia stared oddly at him. This quite irritated him for he was on a tight time, any minute now, Morticia would be returning from the bathroom. "What?" he asked almost exasperatedly.

"You speak of Morticia's birthday as if it was not also mine's," Ophelia explained. Her tone was not angry, but more of amused.

He slapped his palm to his forehead. "Of course! How could I forget?"

"Are you already preparing for our birthday?" she asked.

He smiled sheepishly at her. "Just for Morticia, I'm sorry." He heard Phoebe chuckled, though quietly.

Ophelia also cracked a smile. "It's alright, Gomez. I did not expect you to whip me up a party. But a present would be very much welcome," she added, winking playfully at him. He smiled back for there was nothing malicious on her action, it was all sisterly affection. "But that is not until two weeks from now."

Before he could reply, Christian spoke up. "Your birthday is in two weeks?"

"You did not know your girlfriend's birthday?" Gomez asked incredulously.

Christian did not reply. Gomez watched as Ophelia's face darkened.

"How come?" Gomez insisted. He looked wildly at Christian.

"I didn't ask," Christian responded. He braved a glance at Ophelia, who was now scowling. He swallowed hard.

"Neither did I," Gomez said defensively.

Phoebe chuckled again. "You need not to," she said, finishing her essay. "Your stalking skills are unbelievable," she echoed Morticia's words.

"I am," Gomez proudly replied.

"So, when is your birthday?" Christian whispered to Ophelia.

"On the 31st of October," Gomez answered. He then ignored Christian and turned to Ophelia. "Well? How does Morticia celebrate her birthdays?"

"She doesn't anymore," she finally answered. Her voice was sad, letting go of the fact that her boyfriend did not know her birthday. Well, in the meantime, that is.

"What?!" he cried, completely forgetting that he was supposedly keeping the conversation away from Morticia's ears. "But, why?"

"She –" Ophelia began.

"– is coming," Phoebe finished. She appeared nonchalant as she discreetly nodded towards the bathroom door, its knob moving as Morticia opened it from the inside.

"Later," Ophelia whispered as she shifted away from Christian and continued reviewing her notes. Gomez flopped back down on the floor and grabbed the book he was memorizing.

He thought of possible reasons why Morticia creased from celebrating her special day but none came to him. He stared at his book, thinking of what he was supposed to be doing with it. Morticia sat down beside him and further distracted him.

"What's wrong?" she asked. Concern was etched on her gloriously beautiful eyes, despite them being blue.

"Nothing. Why?" he asked.

"You look confused… and you are frowning," she answered. She put her fingers on his forehead to straighten the crease.

"Just thinking," he said. He forced his forehead to let go of its frown.

"About what?" she asked.

An idea came to him. He took her hand and caressed it. "About what you would want for your birthday."

She looked at him in surprise. Apparently, of all things, this was not what she had in mind. Behind him, Gomez heard Ophelia slapping her forehead, perhaps in frustration of his sudden question for her sister. He did not think that asking Morticia would be a bad scheme until she felt frigid in his touch.

"Tish?" he carefully asked. He sat up and peered at her face, but she was emotionless. She did not speak. She took back her hand and resumed with writing her short story.

He turned to Ophelia, confusion apparent to his face.

_Mother_, Ophelia mouthed.

He did not ask any more questions. In an instant, somehow, Gomez knew that Mrs. Frump must have done something to make her daughter stop celebrating her birthday.

The rest of the night was awkwardly silent. They all finished their endeavors, though with the intention of leaving the house immediately because of the uncomfortable atmosphere looming. It was not only because of Gomez's mistake of asking Morticia about her birthday, but also because of the silent war between Ophelia and Christian.

Although still distant, Morticia walked Gomez and Phoebe out the main door. Gomez believed that she chose to do this rather than stay inside the house with Ophelia whispering anguished words to Christian's ear. They

"Good night, Gomez," Phoebe said, waving to him. She turned to Morticia. "Good night, Morticia. I will see you at class in the morning."

"I will drive you home," Gomez volunteered. He saw Morticia raised an impressed eyebrow. He smiled.

Phoebe also seemed surprised at his offer. "No need, Gomez. I can walk."

"No, I will drive you," he insisted. He glanced briefly at Morticia before turning his attention back to Phoebe. "Can you just give me a minute?"

"There really is no need, Gomez," Phoebe persisted. "I walked on my way here, I could walk back. Just take your time."

"I insist," he almost pleaded. He wanted to ask Phoebe several things, and the only inconspicuous chance would be through driving Phoebe home. He tried to convey his intentions through pointed glances, but she seemed to not get it. Perhaps he was not as talented as most women were in doing silent communications.

"I suggest that you let him drive you home, Phoebe," Morticia finally spoke up to Gomez's rescue. She smiled slightly. "He can be very… obstinate when he wants something."

"I will wait by your car then," Phoebe said, at last agreeing to his offer.

"Tish…" Gomez began as the two of them watched Phoebe walk away.

"Yes?" Morticia replied, her voice slightly wary.

"I'm sorry when I asked you about… well, earlier when I asked you…" he apologized but could not get himself to repeat the word that made her upset. "I didn't know that you had a negative thing about… you know. I just thought you would like to…"

"It's alright, Gomez," she said, silencing his almost nonsense talking.

"I hope you are not that upset on me," he furthered, his head low.

She raised his face to face him using a slender index finger. "I told you, Gomez, it's alright. I am fine now, _bubula_."

He was stumped by the moniker. "But that wasn't French, Tish."

She smiled. "It was not. It was Yiddish."

"Will you call me that again?" he asked. He felt himself growing warm and somehow emotional.

"_Bubula_?" she repeated, indulging his request.

He felt his heart soar. He took her hand and kissed it. "Will you always call me that?"

"I will, _bubula_," she whispered.

He leaned closer to her. He knew that she was truly no longer upset with him. Holding her waist to pull her closer to him, he pressed his lips on hers. She responded to his kiss with so much passion that almost made him guilty of wanting to pursue the matter about her birthday. Almost, being the operative word.

For whatever reason she stopped celebrating her birthday, Gomez wanted Morticia to view things about her birthday differently. Especially now that they are a couple. He wanted to spend her special day and make her feel that she was special on the day she was born, despite the things her mother said to her.

"Gomez, darling…" she whispered, breaking away from their kiss. "You still have to drive Phoebe home."

"Ah, yes," he said, remembering his intentions. "I will see you in the morning?"

"Most definitely," she agreed.

Once again, he took her hand and kissed it before stepping down the porch. "Good night, Tish."

"Good night, _bubula_,"

"I love you, _cara mia_,"

"And I you, _mon cher_,"

"But that's French, Tish!" he cried, running back to her. Like a madman, he grabbed her hand and fervently showered it with kisses, all the way up to her shoulders.

"Darling, control yourself," Morticia whispered as she tried to squirm away from his hold, but he won't budge. "Gomez, dear… Darling, it is way past midnight, Phoebe's grandmother will be worried if she is not yet home. Gomez…" Yet, he still would not let go. He was already making his way down her other arm.

Sighing, she said in an authoritative voice, not unlike Mrs. Addam's, "Gomez Alonzo Addams, stop it."

In an instant, he dropped her hand and stood still. He wildly looked around, looking for something.

"What are you looking for?" she asked, returning to the normal range of her voice.

"Mama, she's here," he answered, still looking around. "She told me to stop kissing you."

"No, she did not," she replied, suppressing a smile.

"Yes, she did. I heard her."

"No, she did not. You heard me."

"No, I – what?"

Could not stop herself from taking delight of his reaction, she finally smiled. "Mrs. Addams was not here. I was the one who told you to stop."

"But… what…? How…?"

"I heard how she reprimanded you the last time she was here,"

"Oh,"

"You know, I could have been already at home had I walked," Phoebe's voice rang out from the side of the car. Morticia and Gomez turned to her direction.

"He is already on his way there," Morticia replied. She did not shout, her voice was merely louder than a whisper, but the wind seemed to carry her voice all the way to Phoebe, who rolled her eyes, but in a kind and amused manner. Morticia turned to Gomez. "Go."

He pouted, as he did not want to go yet. However, he had a mission to discuss with Phoebe. "Good night," he said again.

"Good night," she replied, then added, "Go."

Though he had other pressing matters to attend to, which he could only accomplish by accompanying Phoebe home, he was still unwilling to leave. She chuckled at his reluctance.

"Go," she repeated.

"Make me?" he dared caddishly.

"As you wish," she replied. She cleared her throat, and once again assumed the manner of Mrs. Addams's speech. "Gomez Alonzo Addams…"

His eyes bulged out. He held up two hands to surrender. "Going, going. But honestly, Tish, you scare me when you do that."

She smiled. "I am glad to know."

Gomez kissed Morticia lightly on the forehead and finally left without a backward glance, for her knew that if he looked back, he would be running to her arms again. Upon reaching the Duesenberg, he unlocked the shotgun seat door for Phoebe, who was patiently waiting for him.

"Took you so long," she chided as she slid inside the car.

He closed the door after her and went over to the driver's side. He entered. "It's hard to say goodbye," he said as he started the car engine and left with a belch of black smoke.

"You did not say goodbye," she countered. "You only bid her good night."

"Still, I will not be seeing her until tomorrow," he replied with a hint of sadness in his voice. Even his eyes were a bit sad.

"You will not see her later?" she asked incredulously. She shifted on her seat to stare at him in disbelief.

"Sadly, no. She still has to finish her write-up –"

"Our short story is not due until Friday, it is only Wednesday. And knowing Morticia, she could finish the write-up in a blink of an eye."

"– I have to finish studying –"

"Exams do not start until Monday next week."

"– and besides, we were already together the whole day. Sometimes, while we still can manage, we give each other space. Just so not to bore each other."

"I doubt that would happen between the two of you," she countered. "You never seem to have idle moments."

"Oh, we do," he replied. A sudden glint shone in his eyes. "Most of our nights are idle."

"Oh. She didn't tell me that."

He looked at her briefly before returning his sight to the road. "She tells you about me?"

"Yes. Well, no," she said, changing her mind after a fraction of a second's deliberation. "Not much about your personal life. But she speaks about her feelings for you and what you do for her." Phoebe glanced outside and observed that the trees on the side of the street were passing them so slowly. She turned to him and asked, "What?"

"Huh?" he replied, looking confused. He flashed her a puzzled expression.

"What do you want to ask?"

"What do you mean?"

"I see what Morticia meant that you are coy," she commented. She sighed almost exasperatedly and explained as if she was speaking to a two-year old child. "You are driving so slowly. I could outwalk your car without breaking a sweat. I know how fast your car, though visibly old, could go."

"Meaning?"

She sighed again, this time, she was definitely exasperated. "Meaning, you are stalling. Everything now falls into place: why you insisted on driving me and why you are driving as slow as a tortoise; you want to ask me something. What is it?"

"You, women, truly notice everything," he mused.

"We are better observers. Come on, Gomez!" she insisted. "Let the cat out!"

"I just want to know if you knew about Morticia's disregard for her birthday,"

"Oh, that… I should have known you will be asking me that," she shook her head dismally. "But no, I did not know until Ophelia brought it up."

"Oh… I thought, since you are best of friends…"

"I knew when her birthday is, as I accidentally saw Morticia's school records, but I never asked about it. We never talked about things she does not want to speak of," she thought for a moment. "Though she is friendly and could be talkative, Morticia is rather… shy, could be the perfect word."

"I think I understand what you mean," he agreed as he thought about how Morticia was during conversations. "She mostly asks and discusses, but never divulges."

"Indeed."

"What do you talk about, then?"

Phoebe chuckled quietly. "Me. I fascinate her, you see."

Gomez did not look at her and kept his eyes on the road, but his expression was hurt, even a bit jealous.

"Oh, none of that sort, Gomez," she contradicted his reaction. "Morticia is not attracted to me, neither I am to her. We are merely friends. And she is most attracted to you," she assured him.

A slight smile appeared on his lips.

"She told me a number of times that she loves you very much," she furthered. "Going back to your question, as I've said, I fascinate her as she has not met a banshee until I came –"

"Oh, so I was right. You are a banshee,"

"You didn't know?"

"I guessed. But Morticia did not tell me." There was a touch of vague emotion in his voice.

"Do not feel bad, Gomez. I suppose she thought it was not her business to tell you."

"I don't feel bad about it. I actually admire her more for keeping it from me because she may have thought that the information should come from you and not from her." He looked searchingly at her. "What were the personal things she told you?"

"Hmmm," she murmured, thinking about his question. "I doubt that you do not know what I know."

"Perhaps that is not true."

"Perhaps. But then again, it is none of my business to tell you if she chose not to, right?"

"I suppose you are correct," he said as he realized that Phoebe had a point.

There was silence following his last comment. Phoebe chose to break it.

"I have not known Morticia for a long time before you came, but you certainly brought change to her. She smiles and laughs now. More when you are around."

"She knocked sense to me, too," Gomez admitted with a proud smile.

"And so I've heard. You are very fortunate to have met each other."

"You as well. She vaguely said that you had a dark past, though she did not delve to the specifics."

"I did. And I am," she agreed. "It is refreshing to have met Morticia after living along for a long time. It is good to know that I have a friend to turn to."

"But she is not the only one," he contested.

She looked at him strangely. "Pardon?"

"She is not your only friend. I would like to be yours, too."

She smiled affectionately at Gomez. "Morticia was right, you are indeed sweet. I am pleased that you want to be my friend."

He shrugged nonchalantly, though a wide smile was plastered on his face. "I already consider you as my friend."

"Thank you, Gomez."

The car stopped.

"Oh, we're here," she said, looking around.

"We passed by your house three times already," he confessed. "I wanted to speak with you that I decided to drive around your neighborhood."

Without waiting for him to assist her, Phoebe stepped out of the car. Before closing the door, she stuck her head back in. "Thank you for the ride, Gomez."

"Anytime."

She turned to leave but he abruptly stopped her.

"Oh, wait! Phoebe!"

She swiveled back to face him. "Yes?"

"How… er, how old are you? That is if you don't mind."

She laughed kindly. "We are friends, remember? But as not to shock you, I am _extremely _old."

"How old is extremely old?"

"Really persistent, that you are. 300… and 1. Turning 2 on December."

"No," he said, gaping at her.

She laughed again. She turned to walk up to her house. "Good night, Gomez!"

He laughed with her. "Good night, old lady!"

As he drove away, he heard her laughing loudly. It somehow made his day. For today, he officially made another friend.

* * *

The following morning, as what he had repeatedly done over the past several weeks, Gomez drove over to Morticia's place, breakfast for two at hand. Arriving there, he realized that he need not knock, for Morticia was already seated on the porch railing, her bag laid forlorn on the floor. From his vantage point from several meters away, she looked irritated, for her brows were furrowed and her arms were crossed tightly on her chest

As he walked towards her, he spoke. "Irritating morning, _cara mia_?"

She turned to look at him. The irritation on her face vanished instantly and she smiled upon the sight of him. "Not anymore, _bubula_."

He felt his insides melt with affection from the nickname she christened him with. He kissed her on the cheek. "Shall we go?"

"Oh, yes, please," she said in what seemed a desperate voice.

He held out a hand, which she took, perhaps too eagerly. They walked hand in hand towards his car. As he had left the Duesenberg unlocked when he left it, he merely opened the passenger door for her. She slid inside and waited for him to enter through the driver side.

"Would you be further irritated if I ask you what was bothering you?" he carefully asked as he started the engine.

She shook her head. "It was Ophelia. She is still seething mad with Christian."

"Did she do something?" he asked.

She scoffed before answering. "Ophelia is mad because Christian did not know when her birthday is."

And there was the God forsaken word, for Morticia, at the very least. Gomez chose not to answer. He merely said, "Oh."

"She was impressed that you knew about mine even if I have not told you," she continued. "That made her extremely disappointed with Christian."

He decided to speak, but made certain that he would not antagonize her in the process. "Well, as you have repeatedly said, my stalking tendencies have no boundaries." He glanced sideways and saw her slightly smile.

"Indeed," she agreed. "I attempted to tell Ophelia that fact, but she had her mind set upon being angry with Christian." She paused. "I might be wrong but I believe Ophelia is upset about Christian not knowing when her birthday is because she was expecting a surprise."

"Isn't that the exact opposite of surprises?" he asked, puzzled. "I mean you cannot really expect to be surprised. Otherwise, it won't be a surprise anymore."

"True. But perhaps she was used to the manner by which her birthdays were being celebrated back at home."

Gomez noted the bitterness in her voice. It saddened him. He decided to change the topic of conversation before she could divulge her true feelings about the matter. Of course, he wanted to know about her dislike on celebrating her birthdays, especially if it came straight from Morticia. But it was too early in the morning for her to be upset further. Perhaps he would ask tonight, but not at the moment.

"I'm sure Ophelia will get over it soon enough. You need not to be upset, _cara mia_,"

She looked at him lovingly. She placed her hand over his, which was holding the stick shift of the car. "You are surely saving me from being upset. Thank you."

His heart sank. Last night's dilemma returned to him. How was he supposed to make her special day… well, special, when the mere mention of her birthday clearly upsets her? From the tone she used speaking about the day, he felt that if she could, she would gladly skip the deranged day.

He merely smiled as he decided to push back in his mind the thought of Morticia's dismay regarding her birthday. He knew that his smile was like a grimace, and so he turned away from her as nonchalant as he could and faced the road. He sped up and not very long later, they were parked beside the now abandoned and long-forgotten first chapel of West Parker.

After he helped her out of the car, Gomez opened the heavy wooden chapel doors. They looked around through the dust so thick, it was practically veiling the inside of the decrypt chapel. The windows were made of stained glass, but grime had accumulated over the past years that hardly any light could pass through.

Holding each other's hand, they walked deeper into the chapel. The pews were rotting, the tiled floor was crunching under their feet, but by some miracle, it felt homey. As if in a déjà vu, he felt as if he had been there or at least the likes of it.

"The campus never ceases to amaze me," Morticia said in awe as she looked at the details of the structure they were in.

"That is because you expect less from it," Gomez replied.

"It did not have promising features," she defended herself. "All the brochures showed Art Deco buildings, state-of-the-art equipment and facilities, air conditioned dormitories, and the management was even proud of its friendly students. How could I think highly of it?" She laid her head on his shoulder. "Had I not met you, I would have probably hanged myself on the willow tree beside my room."

He kissed the top of her head. "I would have probably done the same, had we not met. Probably the reason why I kept surviving year in and year out, although barely should be the operative word, was because my subconscious knew that you would be coming."

Gomez stoop down to spread an old patchwork quilt on the floor of the altar, their only source of light was from the open chapel doors. They sat down and started eater. For Morticia's case, drinking the tea he prepared for her.

While eating, he contemplated on ways to ask her what she wanted for her birthday, without him being blunt and tactless, which might just upset her. Asking her what she wanted for Halloween would be idiotic for she was born on Halloween. The birthday per se was already a hard topic to bring up, how much more asking her what she wanted for the day she wanted to forget. He absently ate, temporarily forgetting that she was sitting beside him.

"You are distracted again," she said, waking him up from his reverie.

"Huh?" he asked absently.

She shifted closer to him and straightened his furrowed brows. "What are you thinking of?" she asked.

It was the question he dreaded to hear; most especially from her when what he was thinking about was an idea that set her off. She does not want to be lied on, she once said. But knowing how she would react if she told her the truth, Gomez decided to take a chance on a little white lie.

"I was thinking of what to give you…" he began, yet already her eyes narrowed, almost like a snake's. He swallowed hard. "…for our 100th day of being in a relationship."

Her eyes relaxed, though only a little bit. She scrutinized him. He felt like she was staring deep into his soul, searching for the lie he just said. Small beads of perspiration were forming on his nape as he nervously looked back at her, attempting to appear innocent.

Just a second before he felt that he was about to crack and tell her the truth, she dropped her inspecting gaze and smiled endearingly at him.

"But that is not until several weeks from now, darling," she said.

He sighed inwardly. "I know, but I want to give you something special. Thinking about what to give you could already take a long time, acquiring it might be longer. I also figured that you do not like surprises."

"Indeed, I do not," she replied making his guilt rise even more. "And besides, I do not need anything."

"That could not be true," he probed.

"I _want _you."

His face fell. "Don't you need me?"

"I will be honest, darling," she said quietly. She stared down her hands cradling her tea tumbler. "I do not want to need you, because I existed and functioned well enough before I met you. And I do not want to be dependent on a person no matter how much I love that person. I want to be with you for as long as possible, but there might be some twist of fate that can cause us to separate. If that happens, I do not want to become just like a shell, empty of myself."

He thought about her answer. Unlike him, she was indeed functional even before he came to the picture. He, on the other hand, barely lived until he met her. He knew right then, that he needed her to become human. She was his muse, his life line, his world. He knew that she had a point. Still, he could not stop himself from feeling hurt that he was not like how she was for him.

"I was not done speaking, dear," she whispered. Using her slender fingers, she raised his head to level with hers. "Darling, you know that you have this penchant of not letting me finish speaking." She stared deep into his eyes and continued, "I am starting to need you. Try as I might to fight it, I am needing you more and more as days pass by. Much like a heroin addict who was new to the vice."

His face slowly brightened.

"My greatest fear now is losing you," she quietly said.

"You will never lose me," he assured her.

"I pray so,"

He kissed her hand. "I promise so."

To Gomez's surprise and delight, Morticia was not available for lunch. In their German Literature class, their professor assigned them the make a book review on _Der Richter und sein Henker_ by Friedrich Dürrenmatt. Most of the class did not even finish reading the second chapter, much more start the book review. Only Morticia and Phoebe were the ones able to reach half of the book. The professor then decided to divide the class into two with Morticia and Phoebe leading each group and each group would do a group review. The report was due the following day and they all decided to start working on it during their double free period, so they could all have their nights free.

This worked for Gomez. Now that Morticia was indisposed, and Ophelia was currently in a lover's quarrel with Christian, Gomez was free to badger Ophelia regarding Morticia's birthday. Though quite sad that he would not be with Morticia until after all of their classes, he kissed her good bye and pretended to have lunch on his own.

When he knew he was out of Morticia's sight, he drove all the way to the Agricultural Building, where Ophelia was just exiting the building. He saw Christian attempting to converse with Ophelia, however, she was visibly ignoring him.

Gomez stopped in front of the building and honked at Ophelia. She turned to him, silently inquiring. He gestured for her to come in, but she was hesitant. When from behind her, Christian tapped her on the shoulder, she then decided to climb in the Duesenberg, slamming the door with more force than intended.

Christian stared at them, surprised. Gomez shook his head, trying to silently tell him that their lunch date would be completely innocent. Christian nodded in understanding. He flashed a morose look at Ophelia, who was staring straight ahead, still ignoring him, before leaving.

Gomez drove to the opposite direction, heading towards a nearby diner. It was not where he and Morticia usually go, and he saw no reason to bring Ophelia to their special place. Still, the restaurant he chose serves none of those greasy and fried foods, which must be good enough for Ophelia.

Like a gentleman, he opened the door for Ophelia. They went inside the diner, walking a few feet from each other. He chose to sit by the window, so he could see if ever Morticia would be coming their way.

"Order anything you want," he said to Ophelia after the waiter handed them with the menus.

"Anything?" Ophelia asked, opening her menu.

"Anything," he replied, opening his menu. He looked up at her. "Well, anything listed in their menu, at least."

"Why?" she further inquired. Though she was scanning the menu, her eyes briefly rested at him, looking suspicious.

"Because I want you to be as comfortable as you could be while I ask you about a pressing matter," he replied.

She sighed. "You are still hooked about Morticia's birthday, aren't you?"

"As a matter of fact, I am."

"I told you, Morticia does not like celebrating her birthdays."

"I intend to change that."

"And how is that?" From the tone of her voice, she was challenging him.

He shrugged. "By you telling me the reason why she detests her birthdays." She opened her mouth to respond but he interrupted her. "You will tell me about that over dinner. Now, choose what to order." He signaled for the waiter.

"Yes, sir?" the waiter asked.

"I would like to have beef steak marinated in red wine, cooked rare," Gomez replied. He closed his menu and handed it to the waiter, who took it.

"We do not cook our steaks rare, sir," he said.

Gomez made a disgusted face. "The closest thing to rare, then."

"Medium rare, sir?" the waiter asked.

Gomez grimaced further and grunted, "Fine."

The waiter turned to Ophelia.

"Is this made of real monkey intestines?" she asked.

The waiter paled at her question. "No, ma'am. That is spaghetti Bolognese. We just call them monkey intestines."

"Yuck," she whispered loudly and made a face. "I'll have steak then, as well. Overly done, please."

"Overly done?" the waiter repeated, looking confused.

"Yes."

The waiter did not reply. He stared at her, still confused as if he did not understand.

"Overcooked steak. Charcoal burnt. Black on the outside, black in the inside," she explained as if she was speaking to an imbecile.

The waiter continued to stare at her, dumbfounded. Ophelia sighed exasperatedly. "Medium rare steak then."

"Marinated in red wine, as well?" the waiter asked, finally hearing a 'normal' order.

"I supposed so,"

"And for your drinks?"

"Red wine," Gomez said.

"Scotch," Ophelia said.

Both Gomez and the waiter gaped at Ophelia.

"For lunch?" Gomez asked, sounding very much incredulous.

Ophelia shrugged. "It was a tough day. And it was a tragic story."

"Anything else?" the waiter asked.

"None," Ophelia replied.

"I don't think you have what we like."

With an uncomprehending look towards them, the waiter left.

"What kind of restaurant is this?" she asked in a disgusted voice.

"A steak house," he replied.

"That does not serve overcooked or rare steak?"

"I haven't been here until now. Good thing Morticia was not here."

"Now, about Morticia…"

"Now?"

"When would you like to hear the story?"

Gomez sighed. "Fine."

"Morticia stopped celebrating her birthdays when she, well, when we, were 10 years old. Actually, our mother stopped celebrating her birthday."

"By 'her birthday' you mean –?"

"Yes, Mother only celebrates my birthday, not Morticia's."

"But you're twins!" he exclaimed.

"Exactly," she replied in a flat voice.

"But why?" he asked in an exaggerated voice, for he really could not understand the reason why and how a mother could do such horrible thing to her own flesh and blood. "I mean, why on earth would a mother do such thing to her child?"

Before Ophelia could answer, the waiter returned with their drinks. She took a swig of her scotch and continued speaking. "I suppose I should start at our 8th birthday." She took another sip of the scotch. "Morticia and I were playing at our yard that morning when a couple of kids wandered nearby. They were all wearing costumes; I suppose they were excited for Halloween.

"One of them was wearing a blue sparkling gown and a tiara, and she was holding a sparkling wand. The other one was dressed in black and a witch's hat. She had a fake long and crooked nose with a wart on its end, and she had painted herself green. That was when we knew about _The Wizard of Oz_. The first one was Glinda, and the other one was the Wicked Witch of the West.

"That sparked Morticia's interest about witches. I, too, was amazed, and so we went to the nearby library. I went to read stories about witches like _Hansel and Gretel_, _The Little Mermaid_, I even saw a copy of the script of _Wicked_. Morticia on the other hand, researched about witches.

"By some reason, there were books about the history of witches, their ancestry traced back in Salem, their burnings in the early 1900s, and everything a person should know about witches – spells, rituals, powers, among others.

"We borrowed two books, one for each of us – mine was the script of _Wicked_, hers was a spell book. The librarian did not suspect a thing, perhaps she thought we were preparing for Halloween. When we arrived home, we went straight in our room and busied ourselves with our borrowed books.

"At one point, Morticia tried a simple spell, a levitating spell, I remember so vividly. One moment, I was seated on my bed, the next thing I know I was floating together with all the other things in our room – our bedside table, the night lamp, our beds, even the closets. Morticia was also floating, she was in shock! Who would not be?

"She was searching in the book for the counterspell when Mother came and saw us floating. She was shocked more than us. I remember even proudly saying 'Morticia made us float! We are like astronauts!

"Perhaps it was the look on Mother's face, or maybe it was her angered voice when she cried stop that made Morticia lose her concentration on making us float and we dropped like stones. Without a word, Mother left, slamming the door hard. We did not know what we did wrong, especially that after the incident, Mother did not change her attitude towards us.

"For the following days, Morticia obsessed about finding out how she was able to cast a spell. Pretty soon, we learned that mother and her sister, who looked very much like Morticia, were witches. She died young though, in an explosion at Salem University. We thought Mother was pleased, and so we continued reading about witches. However, I soon lost interest. That was when my daisies started growing. Morticia, on the other hand, practiced casting other spells.

"For weeks later, it became apparent that Mother did not like witchcraft inside the house. But Morticia could not stop herself, she knew that she was a witch and loved the idea. I have never seen her so happy before the two of you met. With Mother's orders, she practiced only in our room. She rarely gets out of it. Eventually, she learned to develop other spells and she started concocting simple potions.

"Of course, Mother was not pleased. She constantly reprimanded Morticia, threw away her potions, burned her spell books, hoping to kill the witch inside her, but to no avail. Morticia kept on practicing witchcraft. And Mother grew desperate, she sought help from various child psychiatrists, sent Morticia to therapies, locked her up in our room. Still, the witch stayed."

The waiter then returned, carrying their food. It shook both Ophelia and Gomez. They were both so into Morticia that neither of them noticed that they were supposedly having lunch.

"We should eat first," Ophelia suggested. "Before we lost our appetite."

"I think I already lost mine," Gomez replied in a weak voice.

"The worse is yet to come," she assured him.

"There was something worse?"

"Eat up, I will continue later."

Gomez tried to eat, but his stomach did not seem to accept the state of his stake. And his mind was too busy processing Ophelia's story that he could not force himself to eat. On his third bite after almost thirty minutes, he looked up at Ophelia, who could not eat either. She was merely playing with her food, apparently waiting for him to finish.

"Could not eat?" she asked in an almost mocking voice.

He nodded. "Either it was because of your story or because of the steak."

"Should I just continue my, well, Morticia's tale?" she asked.

"Let me just ask for a glass of whiskey. Would you like one?"

"Whiskey, for lunch?" she asked, mirroring the tone he used earlier. "No, just another glass of brandy."

Gomez signaled again for the waiter.

"Another glass of brandy, and one whiskey."

Barely a minute passed and the waiter returned. They both took a long swig of their drink. "Ready," they said in unison.

"Our 10th birthday was the last straw. Mother was very impatient. It was only now that I learned that if a child do not cease from showing signs of his or her power at the age of 10, he or she would become a witch or wizard forever. We did not know that then, yet Morticia's powers perhaps knew about it, as she unexpectedly blew up her pink cake. The frosting was all over the place.

"Later, Morticia told me that she was disgusted with the color of the cake that she cursed inwardly. Probably her powers were very strong that even with just her mind, she could make things happen.

"Mother was beyond mad. We were given separate bedrooms, in the hopes that Morticia would not 'influence' me. She didn't know I also had powers, though not as attuned as Morticia's. I never practiced anyway," she shrugged nonchalantly. "For more than a week, Morticia was locked up in her room. Her windows were boarded up and chained shut, her door could only be opened from outside, she was a prisoner. The only time she was allowed outside was every night, when she could go to the bathroom but nowhere else. But worse –"

"There was still a 'worse'?" he asked in a flabbergasted expression.

"Yes," she replied in a grave voice. "Mother did not give her food. She only had water and nothing else."

"For how long?"

"Three –"

"Months?"

Ophelia let out a hollow laugh. "Years."

Gomez let go of his glass and it fell down on the wooden floor and broke into pieces. "Years?" he whispered weakly, not minding the shattered glass.

"Well, two years and seven months," she answered.

"And she did that because Morticia is a witch?" he asked.

"Because she reminded her of Aunt Esther, her sister, who died," she explained. "She blamed Salem University for her death."

"But that was unfair!"

"She was homeschooled. Well, because she was grounded for almost three years, Father and I brought her books which she studied. After those long years, Morticia returned to school. But she did not fit in. She did not fit in before, and much more after the hiatus. Her powers reverberated in her recluse and the other kids were afraid of her. So, she chose to continue homeschooling," Ophelia took another sip of her drink. "And that was her life."

"Good thing she had you and Mr. Addams," he commented.

"Good thing she met you," she added. He gave her the tiniest smile. "Now, are you still keen on celebrating her birthday?"

"I want to remove the stigma Mrs. Addams placed upon her. I will do whatever it takes for her to finally feel how special her birthday really is."

* * *

"Phoebe," Gomez hissed the following day. The two of them and Morticia were all in the library studying during the free period. Morticia just left their table to get another book from the shelves and Gomez seized the moment to speak with Phoebe.

"Yes?" she murmured, barely raising her head from the book she was reading.

"What does Morticia want for her birthday?" he whispered to her. He moved to the seat Morticia vacated and leaned closer to her to keep their conversation hushed.

"You still have not moved on from that, haven't you?" she asked, still not raising her head. She did not bother lowering her voice

"Keep your voice down, she might hear you!" he hissed. "And no, I haven't and I won't. Not after learning what truly happened."

Phoebe finally put down her book and curiously looked at Gomez.

"That got your attention," he said.

"What happened?" she asked, imitating his whisper.

He opened his mouth to respond but hesitated. He looked around.

"She's not yet coming," she assured him.

"It's not that," he said. "Remember how Morticia did not tell you much about my personal life and how she did not tell me that you are a banshee and how you refused to tell me what you and Morticia talked about?"

"Yes?"

"Well, I think this is like that,"

"Alright," she replied with a shrug. She returned to her book.

"Alright, alright," he conceded. He shifted closer to her, dragging the chair with a squeak. "To make the long, morbid story short, Mrs. Frump locked Morticia up for being a witch on her 10th birthday… with barely any necessities."

"'Barely any necessities'?" she repeated, asking him to further.

He sighed. "No food, just water. No books, one bathroom time, almost nothing."

"How long?"

"Almost two…"

"I am assuming weeks,"

He did not immediately reply.

"Months, then?"

He still did not reply.

"Gomez?"

"Years…"

"What?!"

"Well, a year and seven months,"

"Still!"

"Shh!" Gomez urgently whispered. "Your voice is loudening. Morticia might hear you."

"Sorry," Phoebe replied in a whisper. "It's just that… almost three years of imprisonment by her own mother?"

"I know. And what more motivation do I need to give her the best birthday from here on?"

She sighed. "But Morticia does not want anything."

"I doubt that's true. She must want something and shared it with you."

"Morticia is not a material person,"

"Phoebe, you cannot have a birthday and not have anything."

"Of course, but I just know that she is not a material person."

"You already said that."

"Yes, I know." She thought for a moment. "Well, she wants you."

"Good. And so I will have myself wrapped up for her birthday."

"Do not be sarcastic, Gomez Addams," she admonished him. "Give her memories that would remind her of you on her birthday and not what her mother did on her birthday years ago."

"That makes sense," he slowly said, realizing that she had a point. "What if I –"

"She's coming," Phoebe hissed. "Move."

Gomez returned to his seat and tried to look busy by opening a book on folklore around the world. Phoebe resumed reading as Morticia sat down in between the two of them, putting down two volumes of thick books on the table.

"Tish, was this the one you were reading when we first met?" Gomez asked.

Morticia smiled. "You remembered?"

"Hard not to, _cara mia_," he replied, returning her smile.

Morticia turned to Phoebe, who was strangely staring at her. "What?"

"Why are you staring at me like that?" she asked.

"Like what?" Phoebe asked.

Gomez glared at her pointedly, silently telling her to stop showing how concerned she was for Morticia.

"Like that… like you pity me or something," Morticia replied.

From behind her, he shook his head vehemently. He mouthed 'No'.

"Why would I pity you?" Phoebe asked.

"I have no idea," Morticia replied. "You are the one staring at me like that."

"I think you are imagining things, Morticia," Phoebe said and returned to her book, but flashed Gomez a brief apologetic look.

* * *

For the following days, Gomez badgered both Phoebe and Ophelia, and occasionally Christian, who has finally made up with Ophelia, for tips on how to make Morticia's birthday a special one. All three of them were tired of repeatedly telling Gomez that all Morticia wanted was him. However, he was insisting that she wanted something material. And two days before her birthday, he found it.

The gift hunt started at the same time Gomez begun looking for ways to pleasantly surprise Morticia.

The only decent information he got from Ophelia was that Morticia told her before that she wanted to have balloons on their birthday. Of course, this happened before their mother chose not to celebrate her other daughter's birthday, which only meant that Morticia wanted balloons when she was still a child. Obviously, she was far from a child now. Yet still, Gomez felt it necessary to give her what she wanted before – hoping that her childhood want would help her overcome her hatred for birthdays.

Phoebe was less helpful. Not only because she only knew Morticia a few days longer than Gomez did, but also because after living for 200 years, the novelty of celebrating birthdays wore off already. And besides, banshees do not receive much invitation to gatherings like parties. Quite frankly, Phoebe's socializing skills were rusty.

The only information she shared with Gomez was Morticia's favorite color, which of course Gomez already knew, or at least he already guessed from the color she usually wore. He voiced this out.

"I know black is Morticia's favorite color. In fact, I think everyone knows that."

"Do not exaggerate, Gomez," Phoebe said, narrowing her eyes on him. They were once again whispering as Morticia just left to go to the bathroom during their free period.

"By other information about Morticia, I meant information that I did not know about her," he whispered, feeling quite defeated. He knew Morticia was a private person, but not _this _private.

"Gomez, I told you, we never really talk about her," she said. He felt her frustration and could not help but mirror it.

"Perhaps she said something in passing –"

"I cannot remember anything she said –"

"Who is she?" Morticia interrupted their conversation. Both Gomez and Phoebe nearly jumped off their skins as neither of them noticed her returning.

"What?" Gomez asked, opting to play dumb rather than let her know what they were previously talking about.

"Phoebe said that she could not remember anything she said," Morticia explained as she sat down beside them on the grass beside the baseball field of West Parker. "I was asking who was the 'she' Phoebe meant."

"Oh," was the only thing he could say. He pointedly looked at Phoebe, begging her not to sell his plans out.

"Oh," Phoebe replied, repeating what he just uttered. "By she, I meant… you."

Gomez's heart nearly stopped beating. "She?"

"Me?" Morticia asked.

"Yes," Phoebe answered, ignoring Gomez's reaction. "Gomez here was asking me…" He vehemently shook his head, pleading her to stop. "… what you wanted…" Gomez badly wanted to melt on the floor. How could she tell Morticia his plans? "… to be if you were not a witch."

"Oh," Gomez could not help himself from murmuring. Still, he glared at Phoebe who smiled at him wickedly. It was a good thing that Morticia was staring off into space that she did not notice their silent banter.

"Oh…" Morticia said, wondering to herself. "Well… I have not given that much thought. Perhaps an author? Or a painter… maybe a sculptor. I think becoming a decorator would not be bad either."

"An artist," Phoebe commented. She stared pointedly at Gomez. He nodded his head in comprehension.

"Yes," Morticia replied. "Art would help me express my true emotions." She turned back to Phoebe. "What about you, Phoebe?"

"Me?" Phoebe asked. She laughed to herself. "Well, I would like to become human first." She and Morticia laughed.

Gomez tuned out to the two girls' conversation, for he just had a great idea on how to surprise Morticia on her birthday. He excused himself and went to the art section of the library to research. He smiled to himself, for sure, Morticia would not be angry at him for deciding to celebrate her birthday. Especially that the theme of her special day would be art.

* * *

"Do you think Morticia is already awake? Perhaps I should check on her" Gomez nervously asked Phoebe on Morticia's birthday. It was only half an hour before her first class and she has not come down from her room. Besides Gomez, Phoebe and Christian were also there, waiting for her to see the efforts they pulled a few hours ago. The whole house was like a museum, for Gomez made several local artists replicate the famous works during the Dark Ages, Baroque Period, and Renaissance Period.

"That will blow the surprise, man," Christian said, leaning over the kitchen sink.

"But she hasn't come down," Gomez reasoned. He started pacing the length of the kitchen, smoking his cigar as he does so. He was terribly nervous that his planned surprise came down to pieces.

"I told you, you should not have left a note beside her table," countered Ophelia. She sat beside Christian on the kitchen sink and crossed her arms as she glared at Gomez. "You told her in the note that there is a surprise waiting for her down here. Seeing how much she hates her birthday, she would not come down anymore."

"Well, I also think you should not have left a note," Christian added. "I mean, with the note, you told her that there is a surprise for her here. So technically, there is no surprise anymore."

"To be fair," Phoebe spoke up to Gomez's defense. "I believe that what Gomez did was justifiable. It prepared Morticia. Can you just imagine how she would react if she came down and saw all these, laid out for her birthday? She would be very anguished."

"But now, she knew that there was something prepared for her birthday," insisted Ophelia. "Knowing that, she will not go down."

"But she has no choice, does she?" Christian asked. Everyone turned to him, looking at him questioningly. "Well, Gomez and I boarded up her balcony door. She could not go to her classes through there."

"You what?!" Ophelia asked, outraged.

"Why would you do such thing?" Phoebe asked, mirroring Ophelia's angered voice. Her eyes were bulging out of her head, almost ready to fall down.

"So she could not escape?" Gomez asked. He was still pacing around.

"By _imprisoning_ her?!" Ophelia and Phoebe said in unison.

Gomez stopped on his tracks. He faced them both with a horror-struck look on his face. "What?! I did not – I mean… I didn't – that wasn't really… er. Christian and I were just… um… imprisoning… that's too harsh… but – not my intentions… I was not – was I?"

"Chain your words together, man?" Christian suggested, almost laughing. Of course, he did not know the reason behind Morticia's reluctance in celebrating her birthday. Ophelia and Phoebe glared at him. Christian immediately shut up.

Gomez looked helplessly at Ophelia and Phoebe, who stared back at him, though in utter disbelief. They were quiet for some time. At some point, Gomez looked down at his pocket watch, and saw that it was barely five minutes before her first period.

Time passed slowly. Phoebe did not leave, even though she was already late for her class, for she wanted to witness how Morticia would react. After a quarter of an hour passed, Phoebe raised her head and saw the unmistakably outline of Morticia descending the stairs. She whistled to Gomez, who was smoking miserably by the window facing away the stairs.

He looked at her, his eyes very much remorseful. Phoebe slightly nodded her head towards the stairs. Gomez frowned, not immediately understanding what she was signaling. She continued nodding. Finally, he turned around, and saw Morticia a few steps down the stairs. He swallowed hard and walked up to her.

"Happy birthday, _cara mia_,"

Her face was blank and emotionless.

* * *

I know, I know, the chapter was a cliffhanger. But, what do you guys think? How do you think Morticia would react? What do you think Gomez said in the note he left Morticia? What do you think Gomez got for Morticia? But most of all, what do you guys want to read on Chapter 13? I was thinking of a Christmas special, but then Christmas was long over. Of course, I will be continuing Morticia's birthday on Chapter 12.5 :D But I really need your help for Chapter 13.

Thank you for your support! See you soon!


	13. Chapter 12 (Morticia): Best Birthday

As promised, here is Chapter 12.5. This is in Morticia's POV. Enjoy!

* * *

Even before Morticia opened her eyes, she knew something was off. With her eyes still shut, she racked her mind. Had she forgotten to do something? Was she not on her bed? Had she done something she was not supposed to do? Did she hug a stuffed rainbow unicorn before falling asleep? Did she dream of eating a chocolate and strawberry cake?

Cake. That stumped her. Now she realized why she felt something was odd even before she blinked in the weak morning light – today is Ophelia's birthday. And since she is Ophelia's twin sister, today is also her birthday. She groaned, not wanting to face anyone on this dreadful day and she, herself skip the day. Try as she might to forget the day of her birth, apparently, it was inherent for a person to remember, even if just in one's subconscious, the day one hates the most. Of course, Morticia knew that she was amongst the rare number of people who detest their birthdays. And not without reason.

She rolled to her side, in vain attempt to force herself to return to slumber. She heard a light crumpling underneath her arm as she shifted. She knew that it was not her nightgown. With her eyes still tightly shut, she felt around the area of her arm, searching for what have caused the crumpling sound. Her fingers touched the edge of what seemed like a thick piece of paper, parchment to her touch.

She immediately knew who the note was from.

Morticia held the paper to her face and laid on her back, before flipping open the letter. She finally opened her eyes and immediately smiled upon the sight of Gomez's elegant and neat handwriting.

_Dear my beloved _cara mia, she read. _Before anything else, I would like to apologize for I have done something I know you extremely abhor. You might be wondering what I have done to apologize. But before I tell you what I did (under the premise that you have not seen it before reading this letter), I ask you not to be mad at me, for I have a reason for doing what I did. My love, believe me when I say that I did what I did because I love you. If you are not too anguished at me, I will explain my actions once we see each other. I hope that I will be seeing you soon enough._

_And so now, I will tell you what I did. If you have not looked around you room yet, I would like to ask you to look around it right now. And once you did, I beg you to return to this letter and finish reading it._

Nervous with Gomez's mysterious intentions, Morticia sat up and put down the letter on her bed. She looked around and her heart sank.

Her room was filled with balloons of colors black, maroon, navy blue, and the darkest shade of green. Most where floating onto her room's ceiling, while others were strewn all over her bedroom floor, ties on the posts of her bed and the back of her chair. Apparently, Gomez knew of her birthday.

Not bothering to return to Gomez's letter, she walked to the bathroom and hurriedly bathed. After finishing, she then raided her closet for the blackest clothing she could find – black smock with white collar and blood red belt over her black leather tights. She quickly brushed her hair and pulled on a pair of ankle boots, before shouldering her bag and opening her balcony door. Or at least, attempting to open it.

She twisted the knobs of the doors and pushed them forward, but the doors did not budge. She tried pulling them in, but it still won't open. She closely studied the door and noted nails sticking out towards her. She peered through the wooden planks on it and realized that her door did not have wooden planks until now. Gomez has locked her in!

Her rage was beyond any scale. She did not give him the benefit of the doubt of not knowing her past. How could he imprison her in her own room on the very same day her mother locked her up from the rest of the world, years ago for three years.

She walked towards her bedroom door, kicking the balloons on her way. Careful not to attract his attention, who for all she knew might be just right outside her door, she twisted the door knob. It was miraculously unlocked.

She immediately understood. It was Gomez's intentions to stop her from escaping through the balcony. She knew right then, that there was more than balloons waiting for her downstairs.

"Well, suit yourself," she whispered as she flopped back to her bed. "I will not leave this room. I was locked up by my own flesh and blood for three years, I could lock myself in for the same amount of time."

She threw an arm over her eyes as she decided to think what Gomez was thinking for pulling such emotional trigger. She ran through her head the first lines in his letter. He could not have no idea regarding her hatred for her birthday, for he apologized before saying anything else. She had also expressed her dislike for the mere discussion of birthdays several days ago. Then why would he do such thing to her?

After what seemed like a long time, she took the letter from just beside her and continued reading.

_If you are reading this, then I must thank you. For you have forgiven me for putting all those balloons inside your room. I can just imagine how enraged you were. Of course, it was not merely the balloons that must have set you off, but the purpose of those balloons._

_I may be assuming, of course. It is highly probable that the reason why you are still reading this letter is because you are merely curious with what I have to say. But at the very least, it is most fortunate that your hands are holding this piece of paper and your eyes are reading what I wrote. It is indeed better to know that this paper still survives rather than torn into pieces and thrown to the trash (together with the balloons)._

Despite her anger, Morticia could not prevent herself from smiling. Even in his letter, which she realized was his first for her Gomez sounded like how he speaks in person – very candid and charming.

_Now that you have seen the (infernal) balloons, I suppose it would be futile for me to assume that you are still unaware of my intentions. Before I proceed, I must apologize again, for I will be greeting you, my love. To the most beautiful and perfect woman I know, to the lady I love the most with all of my being, a happiest birthday._

For some reason, Morticia felt a hint of happiness upon reading his greeting. She continued reading.

_I will apologize once again, for I have intruded upon a secret that you have diligently kept all these years. Please do not blame Ophelia for telling me, as I insisted that she speak of the reason why you most detest this day._

Morticia did not know how to react, knowing that her twin sister was Gomez's accomplice in this birthday stunt.

_Hence, I now know why. And that reason will remain unspoken of, unless you are willing to speak of it. I must admit, the reason ultimately boosted my want to celebrate your birthday. I want you to know and feel that you are special, by making your day a special one._

_Now that the greeting and initial surprise is over and done with, I must apologize again for there are other surprises waiting for you downstairs._

Morticia's eyes narrowed at the plural form of the word surprises Gomez used. It was one thing to be surprise by these demented balloons, but it was another thing to know that there would be more surprises awaiting her. He must have known how she would react by his disclosure, that the next line to his letter addressed it.

_Morticia, my love, please come down and see what we have prepared for your day._

Her eyes narrowed further to the word 'we'. Again, he addressed this, perhaps knowing her more than she thought he knew her.

Cara_, do not blame your sister or Phoebe. I insisted upon all these. I will be waiting for you downstairs. Happy birthday again, _cara mia. _Lovingly and apologetically yours, Gomez._

Slowly, Morticia folded up the letter. It was unusual for her to feel pleased that someone prepared for her birthday, as even her father learned not to when she grew upset or threw a fit whenever he tried to even just greet her. She put the letter down on her bedside table and contemplated whether she should go down and see the festivities prepared for her.

Actually, the internal battle was whether she was ready to see what was instore downstairs. Not to mention that she was gauging her anger for Gomez, and her irritation on her twin sister for divulging her most kept secret. It was not as if she was ashamed of what their mother did, but the mere topic just infuriates her… at least until she finished reading Gomez's letter.

She glanced at her clock and saw that it was almost time for her to leave for her first period. As much as she wanted to attend her class, Morticia knew that there was no other way to leave the house except through the main door, which was surely flooded with birthday things. She had searched every nook and crook of her room and found no secret passage leading anywhere in the house, much less outside.

Sighing, she lay down on her bed, closed her eyes, and tried to sort her emotions out. The mere fact that her anger waned upon reading the totality of the letter must have meant that something made her change her perception towards her birthday. Something overthrew the pain she frequently feels once a year when her birthday comes. Slowly, she realized that it was not a something but a someone – Gomez.

She realized that Gomez's appearance in her life changed her quite visibly as everybody had claimed. She no longer was angry with everything… in fact, she was, for the first time in her life since she was eight years old when she learned that she was a witch, experiencing joy once again.

Thinking that perhaps it would be prudent for her to give him the benefit of the doubt and let him explain further his actions, not to mention that she was growing quite excited to see what he has prepared for her, Morticia decided to go down. However, she chose to scare him, even for just a short while.

She stood up and opened her bedroom door to listen to conversations from downstairs, but heard nothing. She stepped outside and stood at the top of the stairs, where even from there, their anxiety was reverberating. Keeping her face deadpan, she climbed down the stairs.

They were all in the kitchen. Gomez was smoking his cigar by the backdoor while Christian and Ophelia were seated on the kitchen top. Phoebe was sitting on the dining chair, facing away from her. Morticia saw Ophelia nervously glanced up at her and whistled to Gomez, who did not immediately understand her silent message.

"Happy birthday, _cara mia_," Gomez said, standing in front of her. She did not reply but stared blankly at him. He did not insist on a conversation as she moved to look around.

The whole house was transformed into a mixture of Baroque and Dark Ages museum. There were a number of paintings and a few sculptures all over the house, all of which, upon further scrutiny, Morticia realized to be mere, but quite impressive replicas.

She studied each piece of art and appreciated how each made her feel glad that she decided to come down from her room. She did her best to remain looking impassive, when in fact inside, she was bursting with joy. She could not believe the effort pulled to get all these. She knew he did not make any of the art, but for him to find the artist talented enough to do good replicas in such a short time and for him to get this idea was very touching.

At the center of the house, above the fireplace, was the biggest painting, although it was visibly smaller than the original. It was neither Baroque nor Dark Ages painting, it was a foreign one, from the Philippines to be exact. It was Juan Luna's Spoliarium.

She was very impressed with its replica, for it had copied the similar pain and desperation Luna has depicted in his painting. She could feel the pain of those two bloodied, barely alive men as they were being dragged in on arm. She could feel the condemn given by the onlookers as they watched the two men being pulled away after mercilessly being put into a nonsensical battle to death in the arena. The painting was purely dark, she loved it.

She turned around and saw the four of them watching her apprehensively. Ophelia even looked as if she was ready to shield herself once Morticia chose to burst into anguished cries. Morticia eyed Gomez, who was standing closely to her.

"You boarded up my door," she quietly said, not giving anything away. She saw Ophelia and Phoebe slap their foreheads in unison. Christian looked guilty, but not guiltier than Gomez.

"_Cara mia_, please forgive me," he remorsefully said. "I was only thinking of stopping you from escaping, not caging you into your own room… I wasn't imprisoning… I mean…" He was babbling. Ophelia and Phoebe looked even more frustrated as he continued speaking nonsense. "I thought… locking you in… but I didn't – I was only, I mean…" Finally, he took a deep breath and stared deep into her eyes. "Morticia, I am sorry."

Although he had said that a number of times in the letter he left her, his apology said out loud was the only thing, she realized just now, that she needed to hear. With those four words, she completely understood his intentions and actions.

"I only wanted to show you that everything is now changing for the better," he continued. "I just want to let you know that I will do everything I could to alleviate the pain. I just… wish you to have the best birthday you can have."

She lifted her hand to caress his cheek. She smiled her special smile reserved only for him. "Thank you."

His eyes twinkled as he stared at her incredulously. "Are you not angry with me?" he asked.

"I was," she admitted. "Do you want me to be still?"

"No," he quickly replied. "But what happened?"

"I understood what you were trying to do."

"Have I succeeded?"

"Perhaps my mere presence here answers your query."

He grinned like an adorable little monster. "I suppose I have, then." He took her hand and kissed it. "Happy birthday again, my love."

Her smile wavered a bit. "Maybe you should not push your luck too much," she quietly said. Although it was true that she no longer was angered with celebrating her birthday, it still did not completely sit well with her. It still felt quite awkward. She had been angry for so long, after all.

"I won't," he replied quickly. He seemed suddenly alert, careful not to ruin her supposedly special day.

They both turned to look at Phoebe, Ophelia, and Christian, who all looked relieved beyond anything else.

"Were you waiting for a mutiny?" Morticia candidly asked.

"More like a war," Ophelia answered. And just like that, the tension was broken as they all chuckled. "Especially after you made us wait for a long time."

"Am I really the one to blame?" Morticia asked, raising a challenging eyebrow.

"No, _cara_," Gomez hurriedly replied, trying to prevent any possible irritations. "Not at all. Right, Ophelia?"

"I am pleased to know that we have cleared up the err," Morticia said teasingly. She turned to Phoebe. "Oh, I am sorry, Phoebe. You missed class!"

"Don't worry about that. Surely Professor Belch would understand." Then Phoebe added with a shrug. "It was just a class."

"But would it be rude for us to come in late?" Morticia asked.

"You cannot be thinking of going to class just yet!" Ophelia cried. "Gomez still has something to give you."

Morticia swiveled to face Gomez, just in time to see him glare daggers to Ophelia.

"That was supposed to be a surprise, Ophelia, remember?" Christian said, echoing Gomez's thoughts.

"Oh, right. Sorry," Ophelia sheepishly said. She grinned uncomfortably. "Go ahead, pretend I did not speak."

"As if that would work," Gomez muttered. He made a face, obviously irritated that Ophelia blew his main surprise.

"What is this?" Morticia asked. She searched his face for clues. "There is more than the balloons and all these pieces of art?"

"Yes…" he whispered.

"Gomez, I think you are going too far," she warned. She pulled back her hand from his hold and placed it on her hip, her other hand doing the same on the other side of her hip. "It does not mean now that I have welcomed birthday celebration I have also already accepted lavish gifts. The paintings and sculptures are already expensive enough."

"But those weren't from me," he reasoned out in a mumble. He was staring at his feet, unable to meet her fierce gaze.

"Oh?" I doubt Phoebe paid for them," she countered.

"No, Tish, that was not what I meant," he said as he vaguely gestured towards the general direction of the art pieces. "Those do not remind you of me. Neither can you bring those sculptures wherever you go. After some time, they would no longer remind you of the day you once again celebrated your birthday. That was the reason why I got you this." He fished out a long slim box from the inside pocket of his pinstripe coat. It was made of black leather and was waiting to be opened.

He peeked at her and slowly unfastened the small metal lock of the box. Ophelia and Phoebe gasped in appreciation, but Morticia quietly sighed. It was a simple silver chain bracelet, with a single charm of an intricate sign of infinity studded with rubies at the center.

"But Gomez…" she breathed. She scrutinized it and noted the letters M and G engraved on each end of the chain.

Gomez's expectant posture dropped. His face fell even more. "Don't you like it?"

"It's beautiful," Morticia assured, feeling guilty that he felt dejected. "But I cannot accept it. This is a question of luxury over want. And besides, I would rather spend the whole day with you. That would have been a better present."

"I told you," Ophelia and Phoebe whispered in unison.

"Excuse me?" Morticia asked, completely not understanding.

"Gomez had been pestering us for the past days asking us what you want for your birthday," Phoebe began. "We kept on telling him that what you want the most is his company."

"But he stubbornly insisted to give you something material," Ophelia finished, rolling her eyes to emphasize her frustration.

"Gomez…" Morticia almost whined.

"You will be spending the day with me," Gomez said.

"That is not the point. All these…"

"I want you to remember this day,"

"And why won't I?"

"I…"

"Let me explain," Christian spoke up. Everybody turned to him, surprised, even Ophelia. "Men are very… well, symbolic. You know in the theory of Semiotics by Ferdinand de Saussure that there are the signifier and the signified?" Morticia, Gomez, and Phoebe stared at him blankly. Only Phoebe understood what he meant. He changed tack. "You know how women interpret things too deeply? Like, say, there is a red rose and women would associate that with love and weddings and other stuff but the rose itself was not material? Well, men are the other way around. We want to present material things to mark down significant events. We do not deal with thought, we want outputs. This is why Gomez here insisted on giving something tangible to you, Morticia. Don't get me wrong, though, we do not set aside intangible things. We just want to give both."

Morticia looked inquiringly at Gomez, silently asking whether Christian's explanation was indeed true, even at least just to him. He nodded.

"And we just leave the scrapbooking to women," he supplied. He took her hand again. "Tish, the price does not matter. If I could give something to you, I would." He kissed both of her hand. "Will you take my gift?"

She studied his face before thinking of anything to respond. She searched for sincerity in his face and was bombarded by generous amount of it. She felt that he was practically begging her to accept the bracelet, not for its worth but for its pricelessness. She understood his request, for even she realized just then that the fact that she had finally let go of her ill feelings towards her birthday was something truly worth remembering.

"She thought of how as simple as accepting his gift would satisfy his odd penchant of spoiling her. She thought of how making him happy would consequently make her feel quite good.

"Oh, alright," Morticia whispered at last.

With just those simple words, she observed how visibly Gomez glowed. He gently lifted the silver chain from its leather box and clasped it around her left wrist. "So that it will show," he whispered.

"Thank you," she replied. ignoring the other people beside them, she leaned towards him without needing to stand on her tiptoes, for the heels of her shoes sufficed for the few inches he was taller than her, and kissed him.

This was indeed the best birthday she has had.

* * *

Chapter 12 is finally done! Yey! I would like to ask you guys some help, though. What do you guys want to read on Chapter 13? MISA ABADEER suggested a Valentine's special, which I like. But perhaps you have other things in mind. Please feel free to suggest your ideas. Thank you for your support! I will see you on Chapter 13! :)


	14. Chapter 13: Happy Valentines Day!

Hi guys! I am back! Yes, I am alive! I am SUPER SUPER SUPER SUPER SUPER SUPER sorry I was not able to update after a LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONG time. I returned to school and with work and workout to juggle with it, I almost had no time to update. But here is Chapter 13, updated but still not finished.

Did you guys know that this is the anniversary of this fanfic? OMG! Anyways, please bear with the short update. I will finish this chapter if not tomorrow, on the day after that.

Thanks guys! xoxo

* * *

Morticia and Gomez were cuddling each other on her balcony on the eve of February first. The sky was clear, the moon was shining brightly above them, the breeze blowing ever so softly over the worn out quilt covering their legs. Everything was so peaceful. That was until a distant clock chimed twelve midnight – something felt awkward.

Well, things were already awkward even before that night. In fact, the oddness started on New Year's Eve. The day both of them were nervous about, most especially now that they were already in a relationship, was rapidly nearing – Valentine's Day.

Most couples would find the 14th of February exciting. It is actually, for the both of them. It is just that they have made the times they spend together special, neither of them has any idea how to make a couple's day more special than regular days.

Gomez even started a countdown, hoping that a nearing deadline would inspire him to think up of something for Morticia. She, on the other hand, threw all the calendar she laid her eyes on, for with each number slashed of, the day she knew nothing about yet evidently she had to celebrate was closing in, much faster than she wanted to.

That was why, on the third chime of the clock, both of them stiffened up, realizing that Valentine's Day was merely fourteen days away. The excitement Gomez felt turned into anxiousness as Morticia grew more nervous, both because neither of them knew what to do for the demented, but supposedly romantic day.

However, neither of them noticed that the other was also stiff as a board, both eyes wide in apprehension. In their distraction, they just both prayed that the other did not notice the sudden frigidity.

"Good night,_ cara mia_," Gomez whispered to Morticia's ear.

She shifted to allow him to stand up. "Good night, darling," she replied, distracted with her Valentine thoughts that she was not hesitant to let him leave.

Though quite surprised with the absence of her reluctance, he kissed her on the forehead, glad to be able to leave and lock himself up in his room to ponder what to do for the 14th day of the month. "I will see you tomorrow?" he asked, silently hoping that she would say no.

As much as she wanted to decline his offer for the following day, she did not want to hurt his feelings. Of course, she knew nothing of his current disposition, as she was also having her own. "Of course," she said. She smiled up at him in the best manner she could, despite herself.

Without another word, which could have felt way odd had they were in their usual selves, Gomez jumped over Morticia's balcony railing, then unto the adjacent willow tree, leaving her behind, confused. Of course, her confusion had nothing to do with him leaving too early, but of the event to commence in two weeks' time.

He was also having the same dilemma as he drove home. For four times, he nearly crashed onto light posts on the other side of the road, twice nearly drove over two stray cats, and once almost kill a pedestrian, who was already at the sidewalk of the opposite road.

Needless to say, Morticia and Gomez both had nothing in mind to do for Valentine's. Sighing, they both decided to take the next step, no matter how awkward it would be: ask Ophelia, Phoebe, or Christian. Or better yet, ask all three of them.

* * *

Things did not go any better the following days. It seemed to have worsened, as a matter of fact, though neither Morticia nor Gomez noticed anything odd with the other's behavior. On seven days prior to Valentine's Day, panic was already rising for the both of them. Neither of them approached Ophelia, Phoebe, or Christian, believing that they alone could crack open the mystery of what to prepare. Finally, Morticia decided to ask for help.

She was quite disappointed to see that Gomez came to drive her to class one morning. Of course, she was delighted to see him, as she longed to be with him but with the imminent occasion just around the corner, she could not completely enjoy his company. She was planning on speaking privately with Christian, perhaps even with Ophelia around, but now that Gomez was present, she decided to switch to Plan B.

"Morticia, where are you going?" Ophelia asked as Morticia climbed up the stairs.

"I forgot something in my room," Morticia easily lied. She entered her room and searched for paper and pen. She sat down on her desk and started the note for Christian.

Gomez on the other hand, seized the moment of Morticia's absence. He already planned on asking Ophelia the moment he arrived at their house. But then Morticia appeared so suddenly that he did not even have the chance to silently communicate with Ophelia.

"Ophelia," he hurriedly whispered, constantly checking the stairs for Morticia.

Ophelia and Christian, who were having a moment on their own by the front door, inquiringly looked at Gomez.

He stepped closer to them, still checking the stairs every now and then. "I need your help," he said.

"What for?" Ophelia asked, looking quite suspicious.

"Valentine's," he simply replied.

Christian snickered.

"Something funny?" Gomez asked, glaring daggers at Christian. He advanced menacingly. Christian also stepped forward, calling Gomez's silent dare.

"Alright, alright, cut it out," Ophelia said, placing both of her hands on either of their chests. "Christian, please move away from Gomez. I will just talk to him… and I will deal with you later."

Though he obviously wanted to start a brawl with Gomez, Christian backed away. He walked to the back door, where he waited with his back turned at them, though he was occasionally checking up with Ophelia.

"What about Valentine's?" Ophelia asked. Gomez studied her reaction, looking for a hint of sarcasm, just like Christian, but found none. He relaxed.

"I want to prepare something for Morticia," he began, but was immediately interrupted by Ophelia.

"Don't you think you are pushing your luck with celebrations?" she asked.

"But it's Valentine's," he countered.

"And it is Morticia we are talking about," she reminded him with raised eyebrows to prove her point.

"She did not seem angry with what I prepared for her birthday," he said by way of explanation. .

"You are one stubborn young man, are you not?" she asked almost too exasperatedly for Gomez's liking.

He shrugged, waiting for her.

She sighed. "Fine, but do not say I did not warn you. What do you need?"

"Thank you," he said, flashing her a big smile. "What does Morticia want?"

"That question again?" Ophelia asked, now sounding positively exasperated. She placed her hands on her hips. "Gomez, you and Morticia have been in a relationship for months already! You even gave her a birthday party, which she most detest, or at least previously. And now you are asking me what my sister wants? Have you not known her enough?"

"I…"

"And for the nth time, Addams, Morticia only wants you!"

"But –"

"Shall we go?" Morticia's voice softly rang out as she descended the stairs. Silence answered her.

"Is anything the matter?" she asked.

"Nothing, _cara mia_," Gomez nervously replied.

She turned to Christian, who was standing nonchalantly by the wall. "Christian, can I speak with you?"

"Sure," he replied, smiling at her. To Morticia, it was merely a brotherly affection. But to Gomez, given that Christian sniggered at him earlier, as well as the fact that he is a male and Morticia is a knock out female, Christian's smile was not welcome. "What about?" Christian asked as he placed a casual arm around her shoulder, which further irritated Gomez.

"Let us talk outside," Morticia suggested after casting a hesitant glance at Gomez. Of course, they won't be talking about anything other than Valentine's, but she felt guilty upon Gomez's pained expression. She addressed him. "Would that be alright, _bubula_?" she softly asked.

"Fine," Gomez replied through gritted teeth. Though she called him by the pet name she christened him with, which he very much adored, he could not help but feel irritated with Christian's deliberate actions.

"Come," Morticia whispered, ushering Christian out. She took out a folded piece of paper from the pocket of her bag and handed it to him.

"What is this?" he asked, looking puzzled.

"Answer the question on that piece of paper," she began but halted as he moved to open it. She placed a gentle hand over his to prevent him from unsealing the paper. "Not now, later."

"What's inside?" he curiously asked, putting the folded up paper on the back pocket of his jeans.

"A question," she replied, deliberately shying away from the answer.

"Yes, you said that," he answered. "But what is the question?"

"Christian, if I answer your question and tell you _my _question, then the whole point of that folded up piece of paper would be moot, wouldn't it?" she asked. She stepped closer to him to whisper, "Just do not tell anybody about that."

"Anybody?" he repeated.

"Anybody," she clarified.

"Not even Ophelia?"

"Christian, do you have a different definition for 'anybody'?"

"Just making sure."

On the other side of the house, standing as still as a statue, was Gomez. He was intently watching them with greatly antagonized eyes, ready to pounce on Christian the moment he decided to cross his property. The second this thought washed over him, Gomez immediately felt guilty (though not to the extent of ceasing to watch Morticia and Christian) for thinking about Morticia as his property.

He was very mad that he did not notice Ophelia silently lurk behind him. It was not until he angrily huffed and turned around that he saw her. In fact, he came face to face with her and jumped out of his skin in surprise.

"What were you doing?" he asked.

"Why are you watching Morticia like some bird of prey?" she asked back.

He immediately felt sheepish. He could feel red splotches appearing on his neck with her question. Her question shook him up, making him realize that of course, no matter how attractive Morticia is, she will not look elsewhere but him. Yet for some reason, he felt protective off her.

"Nothing," he answered, waving her off. He decided to revert the conversation back to his dilemma. "So…"

It seemed that Ophelia was not stupid, for she understood what he was attempting to say. "Oh, don't 'so' me, Addams. I've already repeatedly told you that Morticia prefers your company more than anything."

"But –"

"Repeat the question one more time and I swear on my Aunt Esther's grave I will punch you on the nose," she warned as Gomez opened his mouth to insist.

"You wouldn't," he challenged her. He had mastered the art of fencing and shooting, and he was at the peak of shape and health, thanks to zen yogi, that he knew Ophelia's most possibly puny punch would be just like a brush of a gentle finger.

"Try me," she said in so much confidence that he almost bought her façade. But then, seeing her slim arms, he knew that she was merely pulling his leg.

" What does Morticia want?" he asked.

"You asked for it," she said. And in a speed, only a bit slower than the speed of light by a miniscule per cent, Ophelia pulled her arm bag and swung it to Gomez's face. He was definitely caught off guard, for he was not expecting such speed and power from her tiny arm. He dodged just in time, and he felt the breeze of her fist graze his cheek.

"You weren't expecting that," she commented with a slightly triumphant smile.

Before he could reply, Morticia approached them. "Shall we go?" she asked in an overly perky voice that of course did not suit her at any level. She saw Ophelia flashed her a skeptic look, but she ignored it. She addressed Gomez. "It is almost time for class."

"Is it?" he asked, surprised. He did not notice her perky demeanor, or rather, he was too busy to notice it. He took out his pocket watch and studied it. "By jove, you are right, _cara mia_! Pardon me."

"Quite alright," she replied. They then left the house with a hurried good bye to Ophelia and Christian.

Though still distracted with his lack of plans for the 14th day of the month, Gomez did not forget opening the door for Morticia and ushering her in. They rode in an awkward silence, which by some miracle neither of them noticed.

They were on their way up to her classroom when he saw Phoebe arriving.

"Phoebe!" he called. Morticia looked back and saw her friend coming. She stopped climbing the stairs to wait up for her.

"Hello Gomez, hello Morticia," Phoebe greeted. Both Morticia and Gomez observed the bewilderment in her voice, but the former chose to ignore it and greet her friend in return with a kiss on the cheek.

"Tish, you would not mind if I talk to Phoebe for a while, would you?" Gomez asked, perhaps too blatantly.

Morticia slightly narrowed her eyes on his rather peculiar request, especially that their class was about to begin. But then, she remembered how he let her speak with Christian, although it was very clear in hi eyes that he would rather not have him near her. She took a step forward, slightly stood on the tips of her toes, and kissed him on the lips.

The gesture surprised him, for her kiss was more arduous that usual. Pleased with her sudden display of affection, especially on such a public space on broad daylight, he returned her kiss. They broke away from each other moments later, both of them flushed and panting for air. Quite simultaneously, they turned to Phoebe, who was deliberately looking at any direction but them, whistling nonchalantly.

"_Pardonne moi_," Morticia whispered. She moved to glide away from Gomez and Phoebe, but then her uttering of French nearly drove him out of his wits.

"That's French, Tish!" he cried as he showered her arm with fervent kisses. "You know what French does to me, _cara mia_! Please say more – monsieur, mademoiselle – anything!"

"Gomez, control yourself," she whispered. She tried to squirm away from him but he was determined not to let her go without any further French. He continued kissing her arm, ready to move to the other. Having no choice, she assumed the manner of Mrs. Addams. "Gomez…"

"Yes, Mama," he replied most abruptly. He immediately let go of her hand and stood up straight.

Morticia and Phoebe quietly chuckled. With a quick peck on his cheek, Morticia left.

"What's going on?" Phoebe asked once she was certain that Morticia was out of earshot. "I know that look, I've seen that before."

"Then you know what I am about to ask," Gomez replied.

"Tell me," she said. She leaned on the stair railing and waited for him to proceed.

"What do you think Morticia wants for Valentine's?" he asked, trying to sound casual but failing.

She rolled her eyes before responding. "That question again, Gomez?"

"Well, technically, that was a different question," he replied. "Before I was asking for a birthday gift, now I am asking for a Valentine's gift, or something."

"Are you mocking me?" she asked, putting her hands on either of her hips. She raised an eyebrow.

"Definitely not," he replied, shaking his head vehemently. "I was just pointing out that now is different from Morticia's birthday."

She raised her eyebrow even higher.

He swallowed hard for now, Phoebe looked not so different from Morticia when she imitates his mother. "If you insist," he replied meekly.

She dropped her menacing stature. "Don't you think you are pushing celebrations and gifts too hard on Morticia?" she asked.

"That was what Ophelia said," he commented.

"And you asked her, too. Again, I must add," she replied.

"Morticia sat well with her birthday," he insisted. "Valentine's might not have a bad effect on her."

"Did you ask Ophelia that?"

"No… but if there is something I need to know, she would've told me. Wouldn't she?"

She shrugged.

"Do you know?" he asked, suddenly doubting whether his idea of celebrating Valentine's was a good idea.

"No idea,"

Gomez was silent. He contemplated for a while, racking his brains whether Morticia previously said, even in passing, that she detest Valentine's, too. He thought if she showed manifestations of hating romance, but found nothing of either.

"I don't think she dislikes Valentine," he slowly said. He looked inquiringly at Phoebe. "Well?"

"I told you, Gomez," she began in an exasperated voice. "Morticia wants your company and nothing much else."

"Ophelia said that also," he commented. He scratched his head. "Are you certain that you and Ophelia are not sisters?"

"You have a very cluttered mind," she commented. Looking irritated, she turned to her heel and climbed up the stairs to her class, leaving Gomez still clueless.

On the crack of dawn on the 14th of February, Gomez left his bed. He had been lying there since 10 in the evening but sleep was eluding him. Within minutes, he had showered, pomaded his hair, and literally suited up – he was wearing a three-piece black suit with bow tie, and a matching black and white leather shoes. It was not his usual get up, but today was Valentine's day and he had finally hatched up a plan to pleasantly surprise Morticia. His only worry now was whether she has a thing against Valentine's.

He looked at his reflection on the hallway mirror, and he could see the worry on his face. He cast the ill thoughts aside, for there was nothing he could do anymore, the order was ready for pickup. And besides, how would he know her reaction unless he pull this stunt off? Perhaps it would have been easier if he asked her.

Shaking his head to cast away all the negativity, Gomez left his apartment and started his car. Of all the days, today was the time his trusted Duisenberg decided to whine. It was too early in the morning for him to bring the car to the nearest car shop for checkup and possible repair, and he would be late if he had to stop by the car shop before going to the restaurant and flower shop.

Praying to all the saints, spirits, and other ethereal beings, he decided to skip the car repair shop and proceed to his Valentine's day errands. He thought that perhaps, his beloved car would cooperate with him and last until the end of the day.

"Please stay with me," he whispered as he drove away from his apartment. "I will have you repaired first thing tomorrow morning… just help me make this day perfect."

After the first few kilometers, the Duisenberg ceased from whining. He let out a sigh of relief and continued driving, whistling to himself.

"_Bon journee, monsieur,_" the female receptionist greeted him as he entered the French restaurant. Though the young woman spoke and even looked part-French with Parisian accent, the delivery did not appeal to him. Maybe it was because the woman was irritatingly blonde, but inexplicably, he felt a surprising wave of distaste for the language. He thought perhaps, French only appealed to him if Morticia speaks it. The receptionist continued speaking, though this time in English. He noted her indeed Parisian accent. "How may I assist you, _monsieur_?"

"I ordered your set meal of authentic Parisian breakfast for two, a couple of days ago," he began, ignoring the receptionist's extensive batting of eyelashes. "I said that I will pick it up today, though in an hour. I woke up early and decided to drop by ahead of time, thinking that perhaps it is already available."

"Your name, _monsieur_?" she asked.

"Gomez Addams," he replied.

The receptionist checked their computerized record for almost just a second. She raised her head to address him. "Please wait for a while, Mr. Addams," she said, gesturing onto the couch reserved for those who came without reservation and willing to wait for a table. "I will just get your order."

As he walked towards the couch, the receptionist left her post and went to the kitchens. Few moments later, the receptionist returned, behind her was a female chef, carrying a box of unmistakably cake.

"Here is your order, Sir," the receptionist said, handing him two paper bags. He handed her his credit card, in exchange.

"Good morning, Sir," the chef greeted. "I own this restaurant and I am also the head chef. I would like you to have this," she said as she handed him the box. She continued, "Since it is Valentine's Day, we give away whole cakes to those who would order a meal for two, and a slice for those who dine in. Assuming based from your clothing and your meal for two, we thought that this is all for a date."

Gomez smiled. "You are correct," he said. "Thank you." The receptionist returned his card and he left. He stopped by a flower shop, where he picked up three dozens of long stemmed red roses, a bunch of petals of red rose, and a couple of balloons shaped like hearts. Of all the things he bought, the balloons were the most cheesy. As he left the shop, he was considering whether the balloons were such a good idea after all. He then drove to Morticia's house, where he decided to park several yards away, just as not to disclose his arrival.

He walked around the house and entered through the back door, as Morticia and Ophelia never lock, or even close the said door. True enough, it was wide open, almost welcoming him. He entered and put down on the kitchen table the food he brought. He carefully unpacked each item, neatly placing their containers on the table. After he unpacked the cake, which was, to his delight, a green tea cheese cake, he carefully folded up the paper bags and then threw them away.

Rather like a thief, he searched the kitchen drawers and cabinets, looking for the best plates and utensils they have. He was even lucky enough to see a silver serving tray, which he decided to put the food on. He took out surgical gloves, which he miraculously scavenged in his apartment, from his pocket and slipped them on to keep the food as hygienic as he could. Personally, he preferred his food dirty, but he had not spoke with Morticia about that.

As he put the food on the good china, he heard footsteps descending the stairs. He panicked. He knew that Morticia would usually sleep until an hour before class. On the rare times that she would wake up early, it was only to escape Ophelia. Was today one of those days? It was impossible for him to keep all the cluttered things on time. It was also an impossible task to finish plating, tying the balloons, and scattering the rose petals before she would arrive in the kitchen.

A second before he could collapsed in panic, Ophelia appeared from the staircase. He breathed a sighof relief.

"Thank goodness it was only you," he said. He continued arranging his Valentine's surprise for Morticia.

She raised an eyebrow, way up high, as she pierce him with an accusing glare. Then she scanned the room. "That was rich," she sarcastically said. "And what is all these?"

"Valentine's breakfast," he replied, not looking up from his work.

"Oh," was her only reaction. "And so you have finally understood what effort and company meant, good for you."

"Do you think, Morticia will like this?" he asked, finally looking up to Ophelia. His eyes were round with anxiousness.

"Why wouldn't she?" she asked, sitting down on the chair opposite Gomez. "You pulled this off all by yourself."

"But I did not cook the food," he countered, also sitting down. "I just bought all these and put them all in a single tray."

"Yes, but you put an effort of coming up with this Valentine's surprise for Morticia."

"If you call it that," he scoffed dejectedly. He sighed. "I only came up with this a few nights ago since I could not think of anything. Another thing is, how different is this from the usual breakfast I bring to her?"

"The roses," she suggested.

"Pfft," he scoffed again. "I bring her flowers almost every day."

"But I doubt that you shower her with rose petals," she insisted.

"Pfft," he repeated.

Ophelia frowned. "Fine!" she almost cried in frustration. "Here I am, telling you that what you prepared is simple yet romantic, but you choose to pity yourself. Suit yourself; your efforts are futile, they won't work." She stood up and started to leave.

"No, no, stay, Ophelia," he stopped her, quite almost pleading. "I'm sorry. I'm just worried Morticia will not like this."

Ophelia sighed exasperatedly before returning to her seat. "No woman in her right mind will not like this," she said waving to the mess he had made on their dining table. "If I know something about Morticia, it is that she adores you no matter what. This will make her love you more."

"You think so?"

"_Yes_," she replied with the same exasperated voice.

"Okay," Gomez replied, finally smiling and losing his anxiousness. He picked up the plate he was working on and continued placing the items as artfully as he could. When he finished, he took out the rose petals and started scattering them from the dining room up to Morticia's bedroom door. Ophelia watched him sleepily, not saying a word.

"Shouldn't Morticia already be preparing around this time?" he asked upon his return.

"What's the time?" she asked, yawning as she spoke.

"A little before seven," he replied. He picked up the long stemmed roses, left three on the table and carried the rest back up the stairs, while at the same time, fetching thin rope from his pocket. One step at a time, he carefully tied a rose on the hand railing of the steps, thinking of making Morticia pickup each on her way down. It was a slow work, but his heart was blooming with excitement as he made his way down the stairs.

"There is no activity inside her room, Ophelia," Gomez called out from the staircase.

"She could not still be sleeping," she replied. Ophelia stood up and climbed up the stairs, passing by Gomez, who was tying the last few roses on the handrail. "Morticia?" She called out, knocking on the door.

"Ophelia!" he hissed as he took the stairs three at a time just to prevent her from rapping her knuckles on her sister's door.

"What?" she asked.

"You cannot call her out!" he hissed. "And lower your voice."

"Why?" she asked.

"Because I am not done yet!" he whispered. "She cannot see what I have prepared just yet!"

"But how am I supposed to know whether she's inside?"

"Why would she not be inside in the first place?"

"I don't know," she shrugged. She shoved past him and climbed back down the stairs. "She could have gone to your house."

"That doesn't make sense," he replied waving aside the idea. "Besides, we did not make arrangements for today, so she's just inside her room."

"Hello?" someone from the receiving room called out.

Both Ophelia and Gomez went to checked out who it was.

"Phoebe, hi," Ophelia said. "What are you doing here?"

"Hello Phoebe," Gomez also greeted.

"Hello Ophelia and Gomez," Phoebe replied, sounding a bit surprised. "I did not expect you to be here, Gomez."

"Why not?" he asked.

"What are you doing here?" Ophelia repeated.

"I came to get Morticia's things," Phoebe replied.

"Why?" Gomez asked.

"Is she not here?" Ophelia asked.

"And why did you say that you did not expect to see me here?" Gomez added.

"I am getting confused," Phoebe replied. She looked strangely at Gomez. "Are you not supposed to be meeting with Morticia?"

"That is why I am here," Gomez said.

"Phoebe, is Morticia not supposed to be here?" Ophelia asked.

"Do you mean to tell me that you do not know where Morticia is?" Phoebe asked, confusion evident in her voice.

"Did I hear someone say Morticia?" another voice joined in. the three of them turned around to see Christian entering the house through the back door.

"What are you doing here?" Phoebe asked.

"I came to fetch Ophelia," Christian replied. Then he smiled at her, "And good morning to you too, Phoebe."

"Never mind that," Ophelia said, brushing his kiss on her forehead away. "Yes, we are talking about her."

"Why did you ask?" Phoebe asked.

"Did you see her?" Gomez also asked peering suspiciously at Christian.

"Don't shoot me, dude!" Christian said placating Gomez's rising anger. "But I did see her."

"What do you mean?" Ophelia asked, her voice mirroring the anxiousness previously used by Gomez and the confusion evident in Phoebe's voice.

"At around 5 in the morning," Christian said, rather nonchalantly. "Why?"

"Where did you see her –?" Gomez began but Phoebe interrupted her.

"Wait, Gomez, answer me first, why are you not with Morticia? I thought you had plans?" Phoebe insisted.

"On her balcony," Christian answered Gomez's question.

"Do you mean to say that Morticia is not here?" Ophelia asked, her voice raising a bit.

"No," Christian replied.

"What do you mean, 'no'?" Gomez asked, sounding very worried. Before Christian could reply, Ophelia ran past them and rushed to the stairs. Realizing rather delayed, Gomez followed her, with Phoebe and Christian on his heels.

"Morticia?" Ophelia called out once again. She knocked hard on her door. "Morticia?"

"Morticia!" Gomez also called.

"I told you, Morticia is not here," Christian insisted.

"Where did she go?" Phoebe asked, sounding worried as well.

"I don't know," Christian answered. "I just saw her climb down her balcony."

"Why did you not stop her?" Ophelia asked almost hysterically.

"Why would I do that? She seemed fine with what she was doing," he reasoned out.

Gomez twisted the knob of Morticia's door and it flung open, revealing an empty room, as Christian claimed.

"Where is she?" Gomez asked.

"Why is she not with you, Gomez?" Phoebe asked him. She was staring at him dangerously.

"She was climbing down the balcony instead of leaving through the door," Ophelia was saying to Christian. "How could she seem fine?"

"She did not look scared," Christian replied. "Besides, I thought you knew she was leaving."

"But that early?" Ophelia asked. She paced the room, showering their feet with daisy petals.

"Why would she be with me?" Gomez answered Phoebe with also a question.

"Because it is Valentine's Day," Phoebe replied.

"But we did not arrange anything," Gomez said.

Phoebe sighed. "Look, I have to get Morticia's things and go. We have a field trip today."

"Wait, you cannot leave us with Morticia missing!" Ophelia cried as she watched Phoebe get a lone bag on Mortica's bed.

"I will be late,"

"Morticia's missing!"

"No, she's not," Christian persistently said. "She was not abducted, Ophelia. She left her room and went to that direction."

The three of them followed Christian's finger, which was pointing to the opposite direction of the school.

"Wait…" Gomez slowly said. He turned to Phoebe. "Did she tell you that we have plans?"

Phoebe shook her head. "No. She just asked me to bring her things for her."

"When?"

"Two days ago…"

"And you saw her going to that direction?" Gomez asked Christian.

"Yes," Christian replied. He thought for a while. "Oh, and she was carrying a small backpack."

"Morticia with a backpack?" Ophelia asked incredulously, momentarily forgetting that her sister was missing. Phoebe reminded her this.

"Ophelia, your sister is missing," she said.

"No, she is not," Christian said again, this time sounding very much exasperated.

"Yes, she is," Ophelia countered, as she came back to her senses.

"No, he's right," Gomez said, agreeing with Christian.

"Then where is she?" Phoebe asked.

"At home," Gomez answered. Without any further ado, he raced past them and left the house. He went to his car and started it, or at least attempted to start it, for it was not cooperating with him again. "Oh, not now…" he groaned.

"Gomez, what are you doing?" Ophelia asked as she, Christian, and Phoebe came running out the house to follow him.

"I understand…" Phoebe said, watching Gomez struggle with his car, which is still not starting. "Morticia is at his house."

"What? Why?" Christian asked.

"It's Valentine's Day!" Ophelia said with dawning realization.

"Yes!" Phoebe agreed.

"Ha! Gomez, I was right! Morticia is –" Ophelia began but abruptly stopped upon seeing Gomez leave his car and run away from them. She cried out to him, "Gomez, where are you going?"

"Home!" he cried back but continued running away.

"On foot?" she shouted, for he was quite far away already.

"Car's not good!" he shouted back and turned on the corner and he was gone.

Phoebe climbed inside Gomez's car and turned the key. The car came to life. She stared at Ophelia and Christian, "What did he mean by the car is not good?"

"No idea," Christian answered. Ophelia looked just as confused as the other two.

* * *

Please wait for further update! I have a two-month break so hopefully, I will make use of that and update as much as possible :D Thank you guys! xoxo


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